Inadvertent Target
by TumblingEtceteras
Summary: She was there on business; at least that's what she told everybody. The lies had never been a problem before. With one random collision, all of that was about to change.
1. Clash

**DISCLAIMER:**** Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, actors, plotlines, locations, props or anything else remotely related to High School Musical - apart from the DVDs and posters of Zac Efron. Nor do I lay claim to be in possession of the genius required for the creation of such things.**

**A/N:****Firstly, to anybody that reads 'Falling into You': I'm afraid to say that it has been deleted. I will be continuing it at The Music in Me (the fanfiction archive of the VANASHBRENIQUE blog); however, it may be a few weeks before I update because I have awful writer's block. In the mean time, my muse has fallen in love with the idea of a _Mr&Mrs Smith_ type idea (thanks to Jill…) and I'm going to see where it takes me!**

Love happens when you least expect it; especially to those who want it the least.

Gabriella Montez was strong, independent and aloof. She avoided personal contact as far as possible and there were only a handful of people that she could loosely define as friends- the people with whom she came into contact through her business. Yet emotional detachment does not necessarily equate to a lack of feelings: she was not cold-hearted because of an innate callousness; it was rather that her personal circumstances had taught her to be that way. She was content to live her life through her job; the exhilaration of her everyday providing sufficient distraction from its true emptiness.

The day had begun like any other: she had woken up in a different city, gone over her task for the day, prepared herself and set off; aiming to return within two hours. Differently to usual, however, things had not gone to plan. As a result she found herself sprinting through the crowded streets of Cairo, discarding her jacket over her shoulder and throwing a handful of notes at a market-stall vendor as she grabbed a colourful dress and pulled it over her head. She paused momentarily to pull off her trousers; leaving them, along with her shoes, behind before continuing to run, now barefoot, towards her hotel. She didn't dare look behind her as she entered the lobby, indeed she was barely paying attention at all; desperate to get back to her room and regroup.

Suddenly she collided with something hard; something that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Gabriella looked up from the wall of muscle that was blocking her path, only to be confronted with the startling blue orbs of the man opposite her; a sight that almost made her forget that she was in flight.

The bustling tranquillity of the hotel lobby was all of a sudden disturbed by the deep shouts of a group of men who were instructing the holiday-makers to get out of their way. Gabriella took a deep breath, knowing that any attempt to make a run for it would most definitely give her away. This was it. Or so she thought.

Staring into the man's eyes, she happened upon a solution. It was the only way.

* * *

Troy Bolton hurried down the stairs of the five-star hotel in which he was staying, having no time to wait for the elevator. He knew it had been a bad idea to try and combine holiday and business; having enjoyed himself a little bit too much the night before and consequently over-sleeping that morning. His research could luckily wait until later in the afternoon; but this meeting could not: his contact would not hang around. His feet carried him hurriedly through the hotel lobby, his eyes flickering to the over-sized clock on the far wall as he tried to calculate how long it would take him to travel across the city. Eyes drawn away from the path that he was following, Troy failed to notice the petite woman heading towards him; their bodies crashing into each other before either could move out of the way.

His hands automatically gripped onto the foreign body's arms, holding her upright as she stumbled from the force of the impact. Dazedly blinking as his gaze fell upon the angelic face below, Troy found himself strangely reluctant to release her from his grip. Luckily he didn't have to.

He was oblivious to the commotion unsettling the buzz of the hotel's over-eager tourists; becoming lost in the eyes of the woman in his arms. The cogs in his mind were turning all too slowly as he tried to think of something to say that would make the unknown woman stay with him. He opened his mouth to speak, the words tugging at the end of his tongue. He didn't get the chance to speak.

* * *

The crowded lobby dissolved in a flow of terrified gasps and screams; she had to act now. Smiling alluringly, Gabriella took a step back, bringing the man forcefully with her as she voiced an unexpected request: "Do me a favour? Kiss me."

* * *

The chilling change of atmosphere in the hotel passed Troy by; the request of the woman catching him off guard. He complied; leaning towards her to place a tentative kiss on her lips - _who was he to deny this gorgeous girl such a request?_ Smiling, both out of relief and pleasure, Gabriella gripped his collar, pulling him closer to her – his body now shielding her from view. His lips hovered over hers for a moment before descending once again onto the soft, luscious skin. This time the kiss was no mere peck; Gabriella made sure of that, opening her mouth in invitation; an action that ignited something long-forgotten in Troy. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, pushing her back further into the wall as his plundering kisses continued.

Gabriella's eyes peeked open slightly to see the poor excuses for 'security' pass them by without a second thought. The danger had passed; she should have pulled away.

But she didn't.

What had begun as a necessary disguise for Gabriella had turned into a rare capitulation to her feelings. The kiss had only grown in intensity; the clawing of their hands against the other's clothing becoming almost painful as the couple submitted to their all-consuming desire. They desperately clung to their remaining breath, neither finding the possible separation of their mouths and bodies to be an acceptable possibility.

When the breathlessness could no longer be repressed, Troy allowed his head to drop down onto the gorgeous brunette's shoulder; surprised to note that even this contact made him more aware of his feelings, both sensual and emotional, than he ever had been.

Troy Bolton did not form relationships; not anymore at least.

Gabriella leaned her head back against the wall, smiling softly before speaking. "Thanks," she whispered breathlessly.

At the sound of her voice, Troy lifted his head back up to look at her; really look at her. She was beautiful; her sienna eyes unknowingly piercing through his painstakingly-constructed mask. With one look and the subsequent kiss she had reminded his soul of possibilities that he had refused to consider ever since the day that had changed his approach to life forever. He lifted his head a touch, his heart stilling when he saw the smile that teased her face as she panted lightly; she was infusing his body once again with life. Shaking his head – he could not bear to let himself fall back into old habits - he was caught by surprise when another kiss landed on his mouth.

"See you later," she winked, slithering her way out of his arms, her hips swaying from side to side as she walked away from him; the sensual action sending a prickling heat through his body and making him forget his promise to himself.

"That's it?" he yelled after her. "Not even a name?"

She turned around, still walking away, and smiled, "Gabriella."

As she sashayed her way across the lobby as quickly as possible, Gabriella shook her head in disbelief; berating herself for the extra sway distorting the movement of her hips: _what was she playing at?_ Today was the closest she had ever come to being caught. The failure of her mission had admittedly been a technical hitch- she made a mental note to assign a new technical head when she arrived home- but the loss of concentration as she escaped had been something new; and something entirely unwanted. Distractions only meant two things: failure or death; neither of which was an acceptable result.

She had been lucky.

She scoffed: Gabriella Montez did not believe in luck - even if it did come in the form of possibly the finest specimen of the masculine gender that she had ever laid her eyes on. She almost slapped her head in frustration as she went to enter the elevator: she had told somebody her real name and was on the point of betraying where she was staying too.

She needed to get her game back.

**A/N: ****I'm really anxious to hear what you thought about that; any constructive criticism is more than welcome. This is going to be my first real multi-chapter story so I'm going to need all of the help and encouragement that I can get! **


	2. Coming Undone

The soft click of the door was silently heard

The stifling air of the balmy Egyptian evening puckered against his skin. He undid the top buttons of his shirt, rolling his sleeves up as he attempted to get more comfortable. Having completed his work for the day, Troy Bolton had decided that it was time to have some fun; he was going to make sure that he enjoyed the last two days of his business holiday. The seductive beat swirling around his eardrums reminded Troy of his heated encounter with Gabriella; an encounter that had left him yearning for contact. What surprised Troy, however, was the nature of the relationship that he desired. Troy Bolton was an attractive man, and he knew it, so when his erotic urges made themselves known he never had any trouble finding somebody to quench his desires. That was as far as it went, though: he was reluctant to get involve with a woman on a deeper level, knowing that he couldn't commit himself. This was an essential fact of his life; one which he accepted and sought to constantly enforce. His current longing for Gabriella, one which transcended some plain physical attraction, was consequently a cause for concern.

He stepped further onto the hotel's terraced restaurant, where the tables had been cleared and the lights dimmed to create an open-air dance club, his eyes scouring the dance floor for a suitable projection for his frustration.

As his eyes reached the far end of the terrace, however, he realised that he wouldn't have to project his desires onto an unsuspecting stranger; his longing's true object was standing right in his line of view. His eyes had first been drawn to the magnificent legs, his gaze slowly appreciating the stretch of the toned muscle, before they had travelled over the rest of her small frame; concealed by a loose-fitting white dress that left enough to the imagination to drive him wild. Yet it was her ebony locks that made him sure that it was her; the tumbling curls cascading down her back and coming to rest just above the line of her hip. His breath caught in the back of his throat as she flicked her head back in an attempt to remove her fringe from her eyes; the moonlight casting an ethereal shadow on her feature.

Gabriella.

Bracing her hands on the railing, Gabriella basked in the noise of the busy city below and the intoxicating beat of the surrounding music. After her encounter with the alluring stranger she had gone for a run; pushing her body harder than she had in a long time, hoping to both punish herself for her performance that afternoon and regain her focus. It hadn't worked; at least not permanently. As soon as she had re-entered her hotel, senses heightened as she looked for any sign that she had been recognised, all memories of being trapped underneath the enticingly masculine frame of "her mystery man" immediately flooded her mind again; shooting a prickling heat through her body. She had intended to lose herself in the music of the hotel's salsa bar; to banish her cravings with some meaningless flirting, or perhaps more, so that she could get back to business with a clear head.

But it hadn't happened.

Every time that a man had approached her that evening, Gabriella had automatically compared him to the Adonis from earlier; and even when she had unwillingly flirted along with one of her best offers, allowed him to kiss her, she had been disappointed to realise that she felt nothing apart from obligation and boredom. And so she found herself staring down at the bustling city, with no idea how she was going to get back to normal.

She was lost.

All of a sudden a calmness washed over her; and she had no idea why: the same song was blasting from the speakers, the view below had not altered. She took a deep breath as she prayed that this tranquillity would be permanent. Gabriella frowned; trying to place the new smell that had intermingled with the scent of cigar smoke and drink wafting through the air.

Her eyes widened: it was his smell.

Trying to calm her heart as it began to beat faster, Gabriella closed her eyes. She refused to let him exert this power over her; she couldn't let him have this power over her. Gabriella was scared; she didn't understand why this man was making her feel how she was. All that she wanted to do was once again drown in his kisses; to lose herself in something other than her work: she had forgotten what it was like to simply feel. _How was it that this stranger could make her remember something that she had spent her adult life trying to forget?_

Troy took a deep breath, trying to still the erratic beating of his heart as he silently moved towards her.

"So we meet again," he whispered; his breathy words embossing a warm reminder of their previous meeting upon the back of her neck. Only the smallest distance separated his chest from her back, his arms framing her own as he caged her in against the railing. Gabriella visibly shivered; a reaction that would have caused Troy to smirk was he not so utterly captivated by the figure in his arms.

"Oh it's you," Gabriella attempted to keep her voice neutral; not knowing that there was nothing that she could do to prevent her from being alluring to Troy.

Troy nodded his head slowly, measuring his next words carefully: he wouldn't let her get away from him again. He was emboldened by the fact that she had made no attempt to escape from his hold; even if she hadn't yet acknowledged him properly. "You know," he started, almost embarrassed by the unusual meekness of his voice, despite the way that it was, unbeknownst to him, melting Gabriella's insides, "not that I'm complaining about the introduction we had earlier, but that's not usually how I get to know a woman."

The edges of Gabriella's lips twitched: he was a smooth talker to match his breathtaking looks and sexy voice. She normally hated men like him. "Really?" she asked, an eyebrow quirked.

"Yes, really," Troy almost whispered, the proximity of his mouth to her ear startling Gabriella. _Why had he managed to get under her skin to such an extent?_

Gabriella made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder at the body pressing against her. Within seconds their lips had once again collided; neither quite sure who had initiated the kiss; a kiss that was impossibly more passionate than their first. Troy maneuvered the girl so that they were now facing, pushing her back into the railing as he tried to bring their bodies into absolute contact. When their lips were once again forced to separate, Troy began to nip at the base of Gabriella's neck, chuckling at her continued silence. Looking up at her again, Troy cocked his eyebrow: "Are you not going to ask for my name yet?"

Gabriella simply shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye as she leaned in and recaptured his bottom lip with her teeth.

"It's Troy," he managed to gasp out before Gabriella once again plunged her tongue into the depths of his mouth. Gabriella's eyes rolled back in ecstasy as she surrendered to his kisses; the height of feeling that his touch was bringing her being all too addictive for her to be rational. Gabriella's skin ignited underneath Troy's lips as he started to trail open-mouthed kisses from the corner of her mouth to the neckline of her dress; her enraptured moaning urging him on, challenging his lips and teeth to pleasure her further.

"Troy!" The way that her velvety chords wrapped around the word almost sent Troy over the edge, and she could sense it; both pairs of hands receiving the unvoiced permission to increase their frantic roaming.

Only when someone accidently knocked into Troy did the two break contact for a minute. He leaned his forehead against hers in a desperate bid to try and catch his breath. As he stared into her eyes, she was the only thing that mattered to him: there was no room to contemplate anything else. The moments spent trying to refill their lungs were not spent idly: his hands slowly rubbing circles on the smooth skin of her thighs; her nails delicately teasing the fine hairs on his back.

"You still haven't said anything…" Troy mused with a smile, surprising himself with the tenderness of his voice; with his desire to get to know her. With one look she had brought him out of himself.

"Who says that we need to talk?" Gabriella questioned silkily, her hands slipping back out from underneath his shirt and sliding over his firm buttocks, travelling around his side and back up the front of his chest; skipping over the one area that it was obvious he desired her touch. Before Troy could open his mouth to respond, Gabriella had slipped from his encaging arms and had begun to walk slowly backwards towards the inside of the hotel; her eyes never leaving his. There was no need for her to speak; her question was implicit: _"Are you coming?"_

They journey to the elevator was a frenzied chase; the same distance maintained between their bodies until they were safe from shielding eyes. The elevator carriage became an extension of their enchanted bubble; their self-restraint banished as their true desires erupted. With the closing of the metal doors, Troy was immediately upon her, backing her into the corner of the lift.

As soon as Troy pulled away slightly to suck in some well needed air, she reversed their positions; slamming his back against the cool metal as her fingers worked at the buttons on his shirt. Troy groaned at her ministrations; her dominance turning him on even more than he had thought could ever be possible. Troy surrendered his mouth to this woman, the mistress of his lust, and satisfied himself with frantically running his hands over the smooth planes of her body; groaning at each and every tantalising curve that he discovered.

The elevator dinged, but the pair was oblivious to the opening of the doors; only becoming aware that they had reached Gabriella's floor when the draught made its presence known. Gabriella pulled back, a confused frown gracing her features as she tried to collect her thoughts; but Troy grasped the back of her neck and directed her mouth back to his.

"Don't stop…" he pleaded; the second-long separation already too long for him.

"It's my floor!" Gabriella murmured, "or it was…" she added upon realising that the doors had closed and the lift was once again in movement. "We need to…"

Troy grabbed the hand that she reached out to press the button for her floor; pinning it above her head. "I think I preferred it when you weren't talking to me," he teased, his voice gravelly with lust; his tongue darting out to taste the hollow of her throat.

"We can't…" a groan interrupted her speech. "We need to go back to my floor…"

Amongst pants and groans, Gabriella heard Troy slam his hand against the elevator stop button. "No we don't."

Their bodies were propelled even closer together; Gabriella's legs wrapping skilfully around Troy's waist as he drove her back once again into the wall; fumbling feverishly at her back as he tried to locate her zipper. Having already discarded Troy's shirt and loosened his belt, causing his trousers to pool at his ankles, Gabriella's hands set off on a feverish discovery of the taut skin of his chest and shoulders; the sight of his veins protruding from the tantalising muscle as it supported her weight sending her into rapture. She was breathless; so very close to reaching ultimate bliss and yet so far: his mouth's path obstructed by the as of yet unremoved item of clothing. In an act of impatience she withdrew her hands from his body and placed them over his own, guiding him to the zipper. Her dress melted from her body; Troy's eyes burned through her soul.

"God you're beautiful," Troy moaned as Gabriella pulled his chin up and their eyes met.

For that one moment all of their other actions stilled; the intensity of their gaze - communicating so many unspoken desires, wishes and understandings- was simply too overwhelming. Slowly, maintaining eye contact, Troy entered Gabriella and with their union both finally became aware of what had been missing in their lives thus far; realising just how much their lifestyles and sacrifices had cost them. As Gabriella tightened the grip of her legs around his waist, pushing him deeper inside of her, they both lost any grip on control; their meaning-filled stare broken apart abruptly as they answered the frantic call of their bodies. Their love making reached a frantic peak: teeth nipping, tongues lapping, hands clawing until they together tumbled over the edge into sated darkness.

Gabriella squinted as the sunlight assaulted her eyes, cursing at the fact that she had forgotten to close the curtains when she had gone to bed; she really _had_ been distracted yesterday. As she moved to stretch she winced, feeling aches in muscles that she hadn't even known existed. She groaned when the memory of the night before came back to her; or at least a hazy version of everything that had happened after Troy had approached her. She vaguely recalled stumbling out of the elevator and backing him down the corridor to her room before succumbing once again to the frenzied lust that had overcome them previously. Burying her head into her pillow, Gabriella sighed before counting to ten: _he didn't mean anything. It didn't mean anything. He was just a typical player that had reminded her of her natural urges; urges that, duly indulged, would no longer affect her work. _

Gabriella froze as she felt a weight settle on the edge of the bed; frantically trying to calculate the weapon that was nearest within her reach. She was just about to spring up and make a run for her suitcase when the foreign presence gently began to stroke her hair before he leaned down and pressed a kiss against her forehead. This time she remained still for another reason: Troy had just made her attempts to dismiss her feelings for him a whole lot more difficult.

Troy softened when she stiffened at his touch. After they had finally disconnected their bodies the night before, he had rolled onto his side; tracing the skin of her arm in awe. She had visibly held her breath, surprised at his actions and she had even gasped when he placed an almost loving kiss onto her shoulder blade; it was as if nobody had ever treated her that way before. He stroked the side of her face, bringing his hand down to cup her cheek; his lips descended upon hers. The kiss was soft and gentle; a stark contrast to the ones that had been exchanged the night before and Troy smiled when Gabriella relaxed again, leaning into his touch.

Placing her hand over his, she finally opened her eyes and connected with the magnificent pair of baby blues that were staring at her. "We should talk…." she started.

"No…" Troy cut her off by kissing her soundly. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she wanted to try and rationalise her way out of this; her underlying vulnerability had been evident as they had drifted off to sleep the night before. It was one of the things that drew him to her the most: she was enthralling, and incomparably sexy, but there was so much more to her. It was as if the troubled facets of his own personality found resonance with this part of hers. "We can talk later." He slid down onto his back again and pulled her on top of him, the gentle pressure of his palm on her back holding her in place. "Let's not think at all right now."

Gabriella couldn't resist the magnetic force that pulled her lips down on top of his, and allowed herself to fuse her lips to his in a kiss that was much more romantic than any of their previous embraces. She pulled back abruptly a few minutes later, scared by the unfamiliar swelling of her heart and the fluttering of her stomach: _what was this feeling? _Her heart transmitted its answer to this unuttered question; the airily exhilarating emotion replaced instantly by another, almost as unfamiliar, feeling: panic.

Gabriella bolted upright and crawled off Troy, too intent on leaving the room to feel conscious about her nudity. She was scared; more scared than she had ever felt before, despite her familiarity with near-death situations.

Her eyes darted around the room frantically as she tried to locate her clothing; the items were dispersed haphazardly, forming a barely identifiable trail from the door to the bed. She pulled her panties up her legs, throwing her hands up in desperation when she noticed that Troy was still lying in her bed; an adorably pained expression on his face.

"You need to go…" she muttered, her eyes downcast.

"Why?" he asked softly, sitting up and trying to reach out for Gabriella.

She let his hands graze her own before stepping back again; a wildly distressed look in her eyes. "Don't…" she pleaded. "Just go…" She threw her dress over her head, grabbing her flip flops before heading to the door. "I'm going now; don't be here when I get back." If the normal Gabriella had been the one giving this order, the man would have been spurred into action; she had used the line more than once. Yet this wasn't the normal Gabriella, or at least the façade that she had created for herself and spent the last 5 years living. Her words lacked conviction, her defeated posture simply serving to show how anxious this situation was making her. She still managed to get as far as gripping the door handle, but luckily did not need to prove to herself that she could leave; Troy's desperate entreaty interrupting her intended action.

"Have breakfast with me?"

Loosening her grip on the handle, Gabriella turned around. She couldn't do this. She wouldn't do this. She looked at him, averting her gaze almost immediately. Opening her mouth, Gabriella knew that she had to refuse.

Yet it was two syllables that left her mouth; not one. "Okay."


	3. Lies

It was as if he had stepped back in time: he felt like he was fifteen again; his palms sweating and his pulse racing as he glanced nervously at the girl sitting opposite him

**DISCLAIMER: Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, actors, plotlines, locations, props or anything else remotely related to High School Musical - apart from the DVDs and posters of Zac Efron. Nor do I lay claim to be in possession of the genius required for the creation of such things.**

**A/N: Thank you for all of the reviews. I'm glad that you're enjoying it! **

It was as if he had stepped back in time: he felt like he was fifteen again; his palms sweating and his pulse racing as he glanced nervously at the girl sitting opposite him. This could have been his first ever date with Lois Green; he was experiencing the same uncertainties about what to say how to act, about how much contact was appropriate. It was laughable really. Troy hadn't consciously intended to ask Gabriella out for breakfast when he had woken up that morning: he had wondered, and felt a pang of regret as he realised that what had happen between them would probably only be a one time thing – they were two strangers that had randomly hooked up on holiday, for God's sake – but the sight of her about to leave had triggered a spontaneous reaction from him; one that he would never had had were he thinking rationally. Even if they had happened to meet under normal 'dating' circumstances, he just wasn't ready for a relationship.

These rationalising negatives were floating around in some isolated corner of his mind; without consequence. His primary contemplations, on the other hand, revolved round the woman who looked just as unsure and awkward as he did; her hands playing with the edge of the tablecloth and her eyes looking anywhere but at him.

Troy scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably, coughing out of nervousness and tinging pink when this drew Gabriella's eyes to his face; their eyes meeting momentarily before both hastily looked away. Gabriella felt trapped; her heart constricted. She had no idea how to cope with situations like this. Indeed, she was barely concentrating on the fact that she was, actually, on a breakfast date, but rather on the basic fact that she had agreed to go on it. How was it possible that her mind had been screaming at her to say no and leave, but that her body had disobeyed? Her gut feeling had never led her blind into such a difficult, insensible situation before. It terrified her: in the space of less than 24 hours she had lost concentration on the job and had realised that her gut instinct was not infallible. The two things on which she rested not only her job, but her life, had been proved fundamentally flawed.

Fiddling with the menu, Troy cleared his throat again, trying to think of something to say. _He_ _was adorable_, Gabriella concluded: his nervous ticks spelling out his unease. _Adorable._ Gabriella recoiled at her use of that particular word; she couldn't remember the last time that she had done; it's meaning long since alien to her. One thing was certain: he would never get far in her line of work.

"So," he began, causing Gabriella to peer across at him shyly, silently thankful that he was the one to initiate conversation. She wasn't entirely sure how these things went. Her dating experience had started and ended when she was sixteen; the upheaval of her life causing her to re-evaluate her priorities rather sharply.

He coughed again.

"So, erm, what brings you to Egypt?" His eyes bulged as the stuttered words left his mouth; here he was feeling compelled to spend more time with this amazingly stunning, intriguing woman, and that was how he had decided to start wooing her. He was an absolute tool. Troy wouldn't have been surprised if she had sent him a disbelieving look before hurrying out of the café as soon as possible, not even bothering to make up an excuse; he was that pathetic.

Instead, she giggled – the delicate tinkling of her laugh almost uncomfortably tickling her throat.

"Oh, you know, just a little bit of business…and a bit of fun…"

Troy nodded, already feeling more comfortable. "Really? Me too. What do you do?"

"_I'm a contract killer." _

If Troy noticed her hesitation, he didn't show it.

"I work in banking; hedge funds…" she supplied; the lie rolling off her tongue with ease after her initial falter.

"Wow, impressive. I would pretend that I know what that means, but you'd only find out later and think I was an idiot," Troy supplied with a disarming shrug.

"Yeah it's okay. Long hours, but pretty exciting. It's a major growth area at the moment….and then with the current financial situation; things can get stressful…"

_I never stop working. I face death everyday. _

"Yeah, I can imagine."

"What do you do?" Gabriella found herself asking, truly interested in his response.

"I work in I.T – technological solutions…your typical computer geek type stuff."

"Hmph," she mused. "You don't look like your typical computer geek…" Troy's eyes twinkled mysteriously in response and Gabriella simply rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore his implication. "I mean, where I work all of the computer people are small and bespectacled and stuttering. Not…"she paused as she searched for the word.

"…Devilishly attractive?" Troy supplied grinning.

Shrugging, Gabriella replied nonchalantly. "If that's what you want to call it."

Troy tilted his head to the side as he observed Gabriella; she was a puzzle. The first time that he had met her she had been confident and flirty; during their next encounter she had gone from aloof to domineering to vulnerable; and now she had started off shy and unsure but had once again begun to flirt with him. It was fascinating. He blushed when he realised that she was waiting for him to retort. "yeah…I don't know. I mean I don't like live on computers, but I think the work is interesting; it's challenging getting to design new programmes. I have to be pretty much constantly on stand-by though, in case something goes wrong with the servers, but yeah…" he shrugged. "Work's work…"

_Work's my life._

They may both have nodded, exhibiting conscious and outward agreement with the statement, but they both knew that it was more than a means to an end. Within the relatively few hours that they had been around the other, the wretchedness of such a truth was starting to become clear.

"Yep. Work's work. Are you here long?" Gabriella asked, her eyes skimming the menu as she spoke.

"Just another day, maybe two, depending on how compliant my client is…you?" Troy crossed his fingers under the table, hoping that he would be granted another stroke of luck and have Gabriella's company for the rest of his trip.

"Only until this evening." The brunette was surprised to note the tone of regret in her voice; she glanced at her watch and found herself moderating her statement: "but not until seven."

_Why had she felt the need to tell him that? It wasn't like she would be spending the day with him._

Troy nodded along; even those 6 hours left with her not seeming nearly enough. "That's a shame," he mused. "How has Cairo treated you then? I haven't had chance to do much sight-seeing yet. You?"

"You could say that…" Her mind cast back to her stake-out in the dessert a few days earlier and the opportunity that she had had to see the pyramids from a distance. "I'm like you though, really, I've been working most of the time so I've only briefly seen things…."

"That's a shame. I can't believe I'm here and I haven't seen a single camel!"

Gabriella grinned. "Because they're the most important things to see when you come to Egypt…"

"Well, no, but I though that I'd easily see one…like in the streets or something."

Quirking an eyebrow, Gabriella couldn't help but feel her cheeks warm when she became aware of the butterflies in her stomach. "Glad to see that you haven't gotten too caught up in stereotypes…" Troy glanced around the café amusedly, inviting Gabriella to follow his line of view. The entire area of "The Mummy" resembled a museum shop, laden with souvenirs and pictures of pyramids and pharaohs. "Okay, okay. I suppose I couldn't blame you for that…" Troy smiled in victory. "But camels? Come on!" she teased.

Troy would have retorted, he really would – at least, that's what he told himself- had the waiter not chosen that moment to take his order.

"And I'll have the _ful midamess,"_ Troy instructed, struggling with the words and pointing to his desired meal on the menu. "What?!" he asked Gabriella as their waiter moved away; the look on her face displaying her amusement with something.

"It's just….that's quite a lot to eat for breakfast…"

"Well, I'm a growing boy. And it is," he checked his watch. "1pm…so technically we're having lunch…I need to keep my energy up!"

Gabriella's eyes widened at the innuendo of his statement, causing Troy to correct himself immediately; flustered. "Not that I mean…" he gestured between them before widening his eyes himself. "But not that I don't want….because I do….but not like right now…but not not…"He stopped as Gabriella dissolved in a cascade of giggles, scratching his neck. "Okay. I should just have stopped talking about five minutes ago, shouldn't I?" Nodding, Gabriella sent him a shy smile. "Right, good. No more talking. Got it."

His professed decision to remain quiet didn't last long. He simply couldn't restrain his desire to get to know this woman. Similarly, Gabriella could feel herself being carried along by the conversation; transported back to a period of her lifetime where everything was so much simpler – so normal. On the plane home that evening, Gabriella would look back at that morning fondly, although inevitably it was to make her realise some painful, saddening home truths. She hadn't laughed – truly laughed- for years. She had feigned amusement on various mission; but her smile never reached her eyes. When she really thought about it, Gabriella became aware that she hadn't actually socialised, for her own, non-career related benefit for a very long time. She may have always classed her co-workers as friends, but even Taylor who she was "closest" to knew very little about her; the nearest that they came to socialising was eating dinner together as they planned tactical operations. That, Gabriella was now able to see, was not a friendship. Her life, as she had been used to living it, was no proper life.

As their meals were served, Troy and Gabriella continued to randomly chat; to set off on the long avoided path of forming new bonds and friendships and rediscovering themselves in the process. Gabriella was so used to immersing herself in her work, in assuming different "characters" when she was on missions, that she hadn't just let herself be for an unacceptably long time. It was fun to just be Gabriella – not "cold-killer" Gabriella, or "boss" Gabriella, or "alluring" Gabriella or "super-spy" Gabriella. In fact, speaking to Troy made her long to be herself.

"So where do you live, anyway?" Troy finally asked, finding it strange that after two hours of conversation and various intimacies he still didn't know this basic fact.

"In New York," Gabriella replied; stilling as Troy's mouth visibly dropped open, his eyes widening in shock. "What?" she questioned, almost self-consciously; automatically reaching up to tame the curls on the top of her head.

"New York as in New York State?"

"Erm yeah…"

"As in the Big Apple?"

"Yes, that's what they call it…"

"No way!"

"Yes…"

"Where exactly?"

"Manhattan…" Gabriella's heart was fluttering. She could only think of one reason why he would be this excited. "Where are you from?"

Troy grinned. "Manhattan."

"What are the chances?" Gabriella mused out loud, blushing faintly at the possibilities that were now running through her mind.

Troy nodded his head in agreement before sitting bolt upright; his face assuming an altogether more serious expression. "That settles it then…"

Gabriella frowned. "Settles what…"

"I wasn't sure…I didn't know what changed or why…and if I should," Troy was more murmuring to himself than addressing Gabriella. "The thing is…if you want to…although you probably think that I'm the biggest loser and never want to see me again….but just in case…I…" He really was acting like a fifteen year-old. "When we are both back in Manhattan, I would really like to take you out for dinner."

Gabriella stared at him, gob-smacked. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, like most of what had happened since she had first collided with Troy she had just been reacting instinctively up until that point, not really allowing any thoughts about consequences and the future to have any impact on her. As the invitation left Troy's mouth, however, the fact that her submission to her instincts would have consequences finally hit home. If anything, their brunch had shown Gabriella precisely how much she had missed out on; it reminded her of the need to have something worth living for. Yet, the recognition of this fact and the strength to enforce such a life-altering change were entirely different matters. No matter what she wanted, she had a job – a dangerous job that had made her who she was and already cost her so much – and that job was not easily compatible with a relationship. Even if it had been, Gabriella didn't even know whether she was capable of having one. She mentally kicked herself. He'd only asked her out on one date, for goodness' sakes. It was quite frankly dangerous that she was already viewing their "connection" in the long term. It just wasn't what she did. There was no way that she could accept. Once she got home she would be pretending that her trip, and everything that came with it, hadn't happened.

"I…" she stuttered, her mouth seemingly fighting on the side of her heart, "I can't…"

Nodding slowly, Troy tried not to let the pain of her rejection show. It had taken a lot for him to reach out; but he had been sure that the coincidence of them living together had been a sign. Gabriella had intended to leave immediately, knowing that the mood would most definitely have been soured by her refusal; but she had made the mistake of looking over at him. The sight of his downcast face had slowed her actions, however. Seeing him, and knowing that she had caused the detectable look of hurt on his features, made her feel guilty. Guilt: it was an unfamiliar emotion to an assassin. She had to smile wryly: she could walk away from the body of a man that she had killed, without the tiniest modicum of regret; but walking away from Troy Bolton after she had turned him down was another matter entirely.

Fate urged the spurned suitor on.

"Just one dinner…"

Gabriella wavered, itching to agree. "I just can't…"

"Gabriella," Troy began; his voice timid. "This last day has been crazy…and I know that this thing that has happened between us is unusual. But I feel something," he laughed. "I actually feel something when I'm with you. And I know that you're scared of something, I am to, but I just want this. I want to find out who you really are…."

_I want that too_, Gabriella thought.

He looked at her imploringly.

"Just one dinner. Please…"

The word seemed almost foreign to Troy. He spent his entire life putting on a front. It was ironic that all it had taken was one woman for him to set aside his mask; his past hurt no longer defining who he was.

Gabriella could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage; the increasing beat reverberating off her eardrums. Maybe it was time that she learned to live.

"One dinner can't hurt, right?" she questioned, a smile toying at her lips.

As their eyes locked, both Troy and Gabriella smiled; truly smiled. It had been a long time, but they had finally found something that numbed the pain: each other.

**A/N: That was a bit of a filler-chapter but let me know what you think!**


	4. Moving On

"The target's name is Adam Hope," Gabriella began, gesturing to the picture on the screen behind her as she spoke

**DISCLAIMER: Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, actors, plotlines, locations, props or anything else remotely related to High School Musical - apart from the DVDs and posters of Zac Efron. Nor do I lay claim to be in possession of the genius required for the creation of such things.**

**Fanfic . vanashbrenique . net / viewuser . php?uid110**

**Thank you (again!) for the reviews…I've never actually written anything with a proper, drawn-out storyline before so it's so nice to know that this (a) makes sense and (b) is enjoyable! **

"The target's name is Adam Hope," Gabriella began, gesturing to the picture on the screen behind her as she spoke. "25 year's old, low-risk –only a handful of offences for hacking and forgery. This one's personal for management: they want him dealt with. We have a narrow window of opportunity; he's being moved to a government facility in the Nevada desert at midnight. We have hacked into federal databases and believe that the convoy will take this route…" She continued to bring up slides on the screen as she outlined the mission; radiating an aura of professionalism and control. Yet 'in control' was the last thing that Gabriella felt.

"So, Taylor…the plane leaves in two hours…"

"You want me to take this one?" The girl's dark eyes brimmed with curiosity and caution as she posed the question.

"Yes." Gabriella tried to look nonchalant in her reply, methodically ordering and straightening the papers on the desk in front of her as she tried to deflect attention from herself.

The other women around the table shared bemused glances: Gabriella never turned down the big jobs; in fact, Gabriella rarely turned down a job.

"You can all go now." Gabriella instructed- her voice clipped as it always was when she was at work. "TechOps will have all of your gear ready for you in an hour. Go over the report and ask me any questions before you leave. I won't be available except for emergencies tonight…"

Again Gabriella's "friends" looked at each other wide-eyed: the woman in front of them looked and sounded like their boss; but she certainly wasn't acting like it. Wary that their prolonged presence might aggravate the woman, especially given how strangely Gabriella was acting, all but one of them scurried from the room.

"I'm just going to stay here and go over the spec…if that's okay?" Taylor asked; barely satisfied at the small nod that Gabriella gave her without looking up from the report that she was reading. Her relationship with Gabriella Montez was unusual; they had known each other for five years, both coming up through the ranks of the business at the same time. Gabriella had always been a complete professional; her dedication and skill meaning that she received promotion after promotion until she stood where she was now – one of the company's most highly prized assets. Taylor could have been jealous of her boss; yet she knew that there was more to the cold-hearted woman than met the eye. Five years ago when they had first met, Gabriella still possessed the same professionalism and drive, but she was nowhere near as closed off. Her vulnerability had shown through at times but her eyes had still sparkled with an understanding and belief in life: until three years previously. The death of Gabriella's Godfather had hit her hard; finally barring all of the prepared locks and causing her to shut herself off to others almost completely. Gabriella Montez became a closed book. She became the killer. She became the boss: she stopped being a person and just became the job.

The other girls at work were used to Gabriella's brusqueness and her inability to connect with them on a more personal level; they had never known anything else. So their reactions to their boss' choice of Taylor for the mission had been appropriately shocked. For Taylor, however, this decision signalled something else. Gabriella had only twice turned down a mission to her knowledge: once when it had fallen on the birthday of her Godfather and the other time when he had been taken into hospital. Out of the protectiveness that she felt for her boss, Taylor couldn't help but fear what could have happened this time to make her pass up on the opportunity to impress her superiors even more.

It wouldn't take long for her to get her answer.

At the opposite end of the large conference table, Gabriella suddenly began routing through her bag; pulling a seemingly never-ending stream of items out of it in her attempt to reach something nestled safely at the bottom. She didn't have time to worry about the fact that Taylor was in the room as she answered her phone; hoping that he hadn't hung up yet.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hey!" Troy replied cheerily, evidently amused at her quiet greeting. "What's with the whispering?"

"I…erm…oh, I'm at work," Gabriella continued, sneaking what she thought was a furtive glance in Taylor's direction. Unfortunately for her, Taylor had already been watching the telephone conversation unfold and Gabriella's nervousness about her presence only intrigued her more.

"Sorry," Troy winced. "I can phone back later…"

"No, it's okay. What did you need?"

"I was just checking that you were still on for tonight…"

Gabriella smiled, no longer concerned about potential eaves-droppers and questions. What had started off with a desperate plea by Troy for them to go on one date had, in fact, turned into several dinners and another breakfast date after their last date had led back to her apartment.

"I am…"

"Good, I'm glad. I would have just had to kidnap you anyway. You have realised that, right?"

"Yeah…" Gabriella's response was giggled; Taylor's head whipped back over to her boss – any attempt to be discrete now out of the window. There was no way that she had just heard Gabriella giggle: Gabriella was not a giggler.

"Just thought I'd check. Anyway, I thought I'd see if you were up for mixing it up a little bit. I had this crazy idea about heading over to Coney Island…checking out the funfair…if you fancy it?"

Gabriella's heart warmed at the nervousness in his voice. "I think I could cope with that," she replied coyly. "I've never been…"

"You've never been?!" Troy was aghast. "How is that even possible?"

Heart sinking as yet another reminder of the inadequacy of her "life" so far floated to the surface, Gabriella simply shrugged as she answered somewhat sheepishly. "I work a lot, I guess…"

"Not even when you were younger? It was like date central when I was younger…."

"Not that I remember…I didn't go on a lot of dates…"

Troy chuckled. "Now that I do not believe. So I'll pick you up at, say, 7?"

Glancing at her watch, Gabriella winced. "Can we make it eight? I'm a bit buried under…"

"Eight it is then. Can't wait…"

Gabriella smiled. "Me either."

"Okay then,"

"Okay…"

"I suppose I should let you get back to work…"

"I suppose."

"See you in a couple of hours?" Troy questioned tentatively, still somewhat scared that Gabriella might bolt at any given moment; desperate not to mess things up.

"Definitely. See you soon,"

"Yep, bye…"

Gabriella sighed as the line died, taking a deep breath before she placed her phone back into her bag with a wide smile gracing her face; oblivious to the incredulous stare of Taylor as she turned back to her work.

TGTGTG

Cheerful whistling filled Troy Bolton's office as he packed up his things and prepared to leave.

"Somebody's getting laid tonight!" his best friend Chad taunted, eliciting further sniggers from the rest of his co-workers.

"Ten bucks he's late for work tomorrow…" Zeke added, launching a paper aeroplane in his friend's direction.

"No way am I betting on something that obvious!" Chad replied, hoping to get some sort of rise out of Troy who had continued as if he couldn't hear their jibing. "But seriously, Troy, what's this now – the fifth date? You haven't seen the same girl that many times for like…" he tried to calculate, falling quiet and feeling the need to permanently staple his mouth closed when he remembered the last time that it had been.

"Yeah," Troy supplied sadly. "Since then…"

The atmosphere in the office had suddenly changed from being one of almost adolescent teasing to painful remembrance.

"I'm sorry, man," Chad uttered; the 'incident' never got brought up, even if each and every one of them had to live through and witness it's consequences on a daily basis and watch Troy become increasingly closed off and lifeless. He may have joined in their conversations and partaken in their pranks, but the Troy Bolton post-'it' and the Troy Bolton prior to 'it' were recognisably different. Troy used to be the life and soul of the party but even when he didn't bury himself in work; his smile never quite reached his eyes anymore. Or at least, it hadn't. Since he had returned from his business trip to Egypt, however, the guys had all started to notice a difference in the way he held himself and had seen him smiling – just because. After days worth of nagging and prying, they had finally managed to get Troy to admit that he was seeing somebody – 'Gabriella' – and had simultaneously been teasing him and watching over him ever since. Chad was pleased that Troy was happy, but it worried him that he had so quickly begun to knock down all of the self-erected walls protecting him.

"Where are you taking her, then?" Jason asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Or are you not?" Zeke's added, his waggled eyebrows ensuring that the mood once again became playful.

Simply rolling his eyes, Troy shoved Zeke's head: "Get your mind out of the gutter, Baylor, the world doesn't revolve around sex, you know."

"That's not what you would have thought after you came into work last Friday…all glazed eyes and fidgety…"

"Shut up, dude!" Troy complained exasperatedly, "we're going over to Coney Island…"

"Well have fun," Chad stated simply, cutting off Zeke as he attempted to make what was bound to be another lewd comment. "And, you know, be careful…"

The pair shared an understanding look. _Now matter how great this is now, I don't want to see you get hurt again._

"Right, I'm out guys. Try not to run my business to the ground whilst I'm gone…"

"Yeah, yeah, dude. See you tomorrow!"

"And use protection! I'm too young to be an uncle!"

Trust Zeke to lower the tone.

TGTGTG

"Woah, get you!" Gabriella exclaimed as Troy threw another ball into the basket; earning himself a reel of tickets as a prize. "I'm impressed…"

"I used to play a lot of ball at High School; had this crazy dream of playing for the NBA and everything,"

"Really?! What happened?"

Grabbing her hand, Troy started to manoeuvre them through the crowded funfair, simply shrugging his shoulders elusively at her question. "I don't know – one injury too many, a bad season…it just didn't seem so fun anymore…"

"Oh okay…so you became a hot-shot computer wizard?"

"Yeah, it was my major at uni so it just seemed like the right direction to take once the basketball fell through. What about you, any secret sporting skills?"

"Err, no not really. I was a bit of a klutz really. I'm not likely to be winning us many tickets tonight. I will buy you some candy floss if you're a really good boy, though…"

"Aren't I always?" Troy flirted back, lifting his arm and wrapping it tightly around her shoulder; revelling in the way that she leaned closer into his body, gripping his waist tightly. "Come on, Montez, let's go and win you a teddy-bear…" They walked a bit further in comfortable silence before stopping in front of a shooting game. "You want a go?" Troy asked, turning to her with a smile on his face.

"Nah, it's okay. I'd probably miss them all anyway…" Gabriella lied, having decided that it probably wouldn't be the greatest idea if she managed to hit all of the targets.

"Awww, poor baby," Troy responded, the kiss that he landed on her forehead successful in deflating the competitive fire that was raging within Gabriella's insides. She hated having to pretend that she was incompetent in these matters. "I'll probably suck at this too." He took aim, missing the first target fairly spectacularly. "See, told you."

Gabriella narrowed her eyes, however, as he managed to hit the next five targets without fail; winning them another handful of tickets. She knew that she should probably refrain from doing anything that would draw attention to her above average combative skills, but her pride had already taken quite a bruising that evening as she had thrown arcade game after arcade game. "You know what," she started, batting her eyelashes. "That looks like fun. Maybe I should have a go…"

"Why not?" Troy shrugged, pulling another note out of his pocket and handing it to the stall vendor. "Maybe you can win me something…"

"Who knows…?"

"Okay, just line up your shot and…" Troy began, standing behind her as he instructed; his warm breath tickling her neck and distracting her enough that she didn't fire her first round cleanly enough; only just hitting the target and without enough force to knock it over. Gabriella was determined though, blocking out the feel of Troy's body brushing against her, and firing her next three shots with accurate precision. She grinned victoriously as the stall vendor handed her her own ream of tickets, waving them happily in front of Troy's face.

He chuckled at her giddiness, once again wrapping his arm around her shoulder as they continued moving through the mass of people. "Not that's what I call beginner's luck! You aren't going to turn round a few months down the line and tell me you're some sort of secret agent, are you?" he teased good-naturedly, ignorant of the truth of his words.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Gabriella exclaimed, her averted gaze revealing more than her words.

"That's a shame; you'd make a hot spy…"

"That's what fantasies are for, Troy." Gabriella countered, rolling her eyes. "I guess my hand-eye coordination has improved since High School, then…"

"I'll bet. I don't know whether to be scared or relieved that my girlfriend can…" his eyes widened at his use of that particular label to describe their relationship. "I…uh…shall we go on the dodgems?" he finished awkwardly, not quite sure what to make of the somewhat vacant expression on Gabriella's face.

"Huh…oh yeah…" she replied, automatically grabbing onto his hand and allowing herself to be led to a car. "Boyfriend," she murmured as Troy paid for their tickets, testing the word and surprising herself with the ease with which it tumbled off her tongue. She squeezed his hand in reassurance when he looked at her nervously – the concern that he had scared her off easy to read in his eyes. His anxious smile widened to a grin at this act, causing Gabriella to reach up onto her tiptoes and place a soft kiss against his lips; just to make sure that he knew that she was okay. "Together or separately?" she said into his ear, the loud music of the ride making it difficult to hear properly.

"We'd better go together, just so that I can protect you…"

"Oh really?" Gabriella questioned, her lips curving up alluringly. "Or is it just because your male ego doesn't think that it can take anymore battering?"

"Is that a challenge, Montez?"

"If you think that you can handle it…" she retorted, checking her nails casually in a move that had Troy's competitive edge flaring.

"You're on…whoever does better gets to keep all of the tickets to buy the loser a present…"

"Sure, I'd start thinking about what you want now, Troy…"

TGTGTG

"That was fun!" Gabriella mused excitedly as Troy helped her out of her dodgem car.

"You sound surprised!"

"I suppose I'd just forgotten what it felt like to let go…"

Troy nodded his head slowly; understanding exactly what she meant. "I know the feeling…" The pair walked in silence as they contemplated their situation; both equally glad that they had found somebody so likeminded, somebody that implicitly understood their caution, and yet both were scared of what could happen if they truly let somebody else in. Troy glanced down at the woman nestled in his arms, a contented smile on her face, and knew in that moment that it was worth it. "I think I owe you an oversized cuddly toy," he said quietly, trying not to disturb the tranquillity of the moment.

"Or I owe you one…"

"Awww, come on, Gabriella. Let me do the typical manly thing…"

"How about we share?" Their eyes met as she spoke softly; her suggestion having a much greater meaning than it would apparently appear.

Troy leaned down to connect their lips in a kiss full of promise. "Sounds like the perfect solution," he whispered against her mouth as they pulled back slightly. Their noses rubbed together as they stood with their arms wrapped around each other, communicating through their gazes a million things that words would just never be able to explain.

TGTGTG

"This is the perfect end to a perfect night," Gabriella sighed, snuggling closer into Troy's embrace, as she stared out at the night sky. Their carriage on the Ferris wheel was swaying close to the top of the frame; giving a perfect view of the bay and the bustling activity of the fairground below them. She couldn't help but giggle at the giant pink elephant that was taking up the seat opposite them; posing a slight incongruity to the classic peacefulness of the moment.

"I know," Troy agreed. "Thank you for agreeing to come. I was kind of nervous about coming here tonight, it's a long time since I've been…" his sentence died off as he became lost in memories and contemplations. He didn't know what it was that had made him suddenly start sharing with her; God knows, his friends had tried often enough to make him open up. His heart simply felt at peace as they floated in the sky, wrapped in their own bubble: nothing else could touch them. "I used to come here a lot with my brother; he was younger than me by 2 and a half years." He chuckled. "He could be such an ass sometimes, and such a pain – especially when he was younger, always trailing around after me. When we were little, Mom and Dad would bring us here every few months; I suppose it was like our family place." He paused, his eyes already gaining a watery sheen. "And then when Dan and I got older, we would just come here to hang out – even when we'd left school. Whenever I came back from Uni we would make sure to have just one night here. It was kinda dumb, but I dunno, a brother's ritual type thing." Gabriella remained quiet as he spoke, merely letting Troy know that she was there by rubbing slow circles on the back of his hand with her thumb. "I…" his voice cracked. "Dan's not here anymore. There was an accident…we…I…I've not come back here since. But today I just had this sudden urge, you know? And I'm glad we came; it kinda makes me feel like I'm introducing you to him – if that doesn't sound really weird?"

Gabriella nodded a sad smile on her face. "I want to say that I'm sorry. But I know that it doesn't help. But I'm really glad that you brought me here today." She placed a finger underneath his chin, bringing his head up to look at her; making him look into his eyes as she continued to speak; slowly and deliberately. "I'm really, really glad. I don't understand how this thing between us happened, but all that I know is that I really want it to carry on. You make me feel alive, again…and…and…I can't promise that I'll be the best girlfriend in the world, I…there are issues, and I don't know when I'll be able to talk about it, but if you'll have me…and if you'll be patient…I'd…" she smiled, slightly embarrassed at her stuttered ramblings. "I'd really like it if we were official…"

Blinking a couple of times, Troy tried to process what she had said before a face-splitting grin appeared on his face. "Of course I'd like that," he chuckled. "My gosh, I had this whole speech planned out about how I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend…and then I kinda chickened out…"

"Well you can still use it, if you're that desperate. I promise I'll act surprised and everything!"

"God no, it was so cheesy. And, phew! I'm so relieved I didn't have to put myself through the trauma…"

"I would've said yes!" Gabriella giggled.

"Well _I_ didn't know that!"

"Are you going to kiss me yet?" Gabriella asked; a coy smile on her face.

"Hell yeah!" Troy exclaimed as his lips began to descend onto hers. Their mouths barely brushed before Troy had pulled back. "One second," he informed, throwing his jacket over their stuffed elephant's head. "I don't think it would be very responsible to let him view this," he added in explanation before his head swooped back down and captured Gabriella's mouth; swallowing any giggles that had started to bubble in her throat.

They pulled back a few minutes later; their gleaming eyes brimming with the promises of a new future. Troy stroked a finger down the side of Gabriella's face in awe, his thumb dipping into the cleft of her chin as he pressed another kiss to her temple. "Thank you," he whispered hoarsely. "For asking…and for before…"

"No," Gabriella smiled softly. "Thank you."

**A/N: Review? Constructive criticism is hugely welcome!  
**


	5. Aufösung

Auflösung

**All original stories are copyright to their owners and may not be used without permission. We are in no way affiliated with any of the High School Musical Cast, Disney, Kenny Ortega or Peter Barsocchini. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**A/N:**** (1) I have updated my Zanessa story, "Falling Into You" at _The Music in Me. _If you were one of my many loyal readers then please take the time to follow the link in my signature and read it (and review ;) ) **

**(2) ****Thank you again for the continued support. I hope that you're up for a bit of angst...**

Taylor Mckessie was observant. She liked to think that it was one of the things that made her so good at her job. As a result, it was natural for Taylor to notice the change in Gabriella's demeanour at certain times of the year; even if she never said a word to hint that something was wrong. That week, the second in September, was one of those times. Gabriella would entirely withdraw and her eyes would assume a heart-breaking sheen; making her inner sadness evident to anybody that looked at her. Taylor had never asked why. It had just become a fact.

Yet, year six into their relationship, and during the second week of September, Gabriella was not struggling to keep herself together. She wasn't walking passed people with her head down. She was smiling. She was cheery. Evidently not even this soul-destroying "anniversary" – as Taylor could only imagine that it could be- could spoil Gabriella's mood as of late: a fact that fascinated Taylor. In the great, if admittedly understated, affection that she held for Gabriella, Taylor was glad that this new anniversary was able to take her boss' mind off the other.

"You should go home early," Taylor encouraged Gabriella as her boss checked the time for what must have been the fifth time in the last twenty minutes. Over the last six months their relationship had not changed considerably: Gabriella remained elusive, but she had begun to intermittently emit warmth again. As time had worn on, Taylor had been privy to snippets of information about the, in her view, miracle-working 'Troy' who had managed to show her boss how to live again.

"What do you mean?" Gabriella asked, somewhat embarrassed that her feelings were so obvious.

"It's been sixth months, hasn't it?" Taylor questioned softly.

Surprise effervesced in the brunette's eyes: she had never known that Taylor paid so much attention. "Yeah."

Her admission was monumental. Taylor could either choose to accept it as a singular disclosure, or do something that she hadn't yet attempted; try and get Gabriella to reveal something else.

"Where are you going?"

Gabriella contemplated for a moment, chewing her lip as she did so. She wasn't used to sharing with people; yet, she found that there were some things, to do with Troy himself, that Gabriella desired more than anything to tell. She wanted to be able to gush at how adorable she found it that he folded his boxers into four before he placed them in "his" drawer. She wanted to show somebody the romantic messages he would send her. She wanted to complain to somebody when they were separated for a few days, or God forbid weeks, when one or the other of them was on a business trip. So she took a deep breath and answered the question: "He's taking me to 'Gilt'."

"Fancy," Taylor mused; too flabberghasted that Gabriella had answered to add anything else straight away. "What time are you going?"

"Nine…" Gabriella sighed, looking at the time yet again.

"Lord, woman, why are you still here? You can't let your man take you out to a pricey restaurant for your anniversary and only spend half an hour getting ready. I forbid you to spend less than two hours preparing…"

"You forbid me?" Gabriella asked, stoney-faced.

Blanching, Taylor spluttered. "No, ma'am, Gabriella. I was just joking. I'm sorry…I mean, I…"

"Chill, Taylor…" And then she giggled again.

There was nothing that Taylor could do but shake her head. Every time that she thought Gabriella had reached her most laid-back, she went and did something like that.

_"This is nice," _Gabriella found herself thinking when Taylor let out a laugh at her antics. Speaking about her experiences and feelings was something that had come both slowly and naturally with Troy: some things just slipped out without her necessarily considering telling him about them; whereas there were other things that she deliberately had to work up the courage to share with him. And of course, there were several things that she still had to brave sharing: her profession; her parents… The colour drained from Gabriella's face, her eyes becoming ghostily empty and her insides folding in on themselves as she remembered. The next day was September the fifteenth; the day that her life had changed forever.

"I forgot…" she gasped so quietly that Taylor had to strain to hear. The rest of Gabriella's words were muffled by her hand; her breathing growing laboured as she attempted to fight the hot, angry and devastated tears that threatened to fall. "How could I…?" She was too dazed to finish her sentence.

In that moment, Taylor didn't need telling what was wrong: Gabriella hadn't been upset about "the other thing" (whatever it was) because she hadn't been thinking about it. She placed an awkwardly comforting hand on Gabriella's back, rubbing small circled on it, and murmuring soothing words as she tried to calm her down. i_How was she to know whether it was working, though?_Gabriella was staring ahead, waif-like.

"Gabriella, you can't…" Taylor paused, confounded. She didn't know how to comfort Gabriella. She didn't even know what she was trying to comfort Gabriella for. So she did the only thing that she knew might make her smile: "Tell me about Troy…"

At the mention of his name, Gabriella blinked. The vacancy of her expression wilted. Her breathing evened.

--

_All it took was a disarming smile and surreptitious flash of the wad of notes to be welcomed to the poker table. With their large, sympathetic eyes and stunning good looks, it was rare that anybody ever suspected the killer's true intentions. Lovers may have been threatened by this object of lust; but it was a jealousy that was easily dismissed. It posed no risk to their cover._

_The greeting floated on the wave of the smooth voice, lulling the players' into a false sense of security: this game would be easy. Or so they thought. Feigning tipsiness, it was easy to trick the rest of the players into growing arrogant; they became too obsessed by the prospect of winning easy money from this high-rolling novice. They didn't notice the gradually "sobering up" of their plaything. They didn't pay attention to the unusually long run of bad luck suffered by their prey. The drink kept flowing; cigar smoke weaved its way around the people sat at the table, saturating the lining of expensive suits and even more expensive dresses. Suspicion remained absent. _

"_Why don't we make this a bit more interesting?" the cry finally rose._

_It was the cue for all of the wives and trophies to leave the room. This was men's business. Envious looks were cast in the assassin's direction as the women filed out of the room: lustful gazes had only one target._

_It wouldn't take much longer. The thought was as much a prayer as a conviction. There was no time to worry about being late for the highly anticipated anniversary meal: one moment of distraction could result in death. With one final glance in the direction of the earlier planned escape route, everything was set. The door clicked quietly closed. Eyes fell to the new hand of cards that had been dealt; all eyes except his. Troy Bolton drew the gun from his inside pocket. Nobody ever got the chance to place their bet. _

--

Gabriella painfully swallowed the lump forming in her throat as she stared at the grand-father clock on the wall opposite; again. Her eyes had been almost permanently trained on the antique, feeling her composure and happiness deliberately sliced by every sharp movement of the second hand. He wasn't just late. She had been sat there for an hour now; too scared and embarrassed to move. The waiting staff and other diners were observing her with pitiful expressions on the faces; expressions and sympathetic thoughts that were covering over the steps that Gabriella had taken during the last few months; leaving a gulf between the Gabriella that she used to be and the Gabriella that she was now – stranded and isolated within a vacuum of self-loathing and shame. She had been so deliriously happy and excited about that evening that she had forgotten that the anniversary of her parents' deaths was the next day. He had made her completely overlook the most painful experience of her entire life, the experience that had felled all of her expectations for her life in one foul swoop; all because she was in love. This night, she thought bitterly, the pathetic possibility of dressing up, for him, and spending a ridiculous amount of money on a meal; this one night had made her forget about her parents. They were the reason that she had been so cut off; dragging her into this business before she had truly had time to process their deaths, and convincing her that she should never let herself love anyone else as much as she loved her family; she wouldn't be able to take it.

Yet, Troy Bolton had walked into her life and made her forget the rationale for such a conviction. She had lowered her defences, eventually whole-heartedly allowing him to infiltrate and affect every fibre of her being, and growing to rely upon him more than she had ever thought possible – _he would never disappoint her; he loved her too much. _ A sardonic laugh clawed at Gabriella's throat, her finger deceasing to play nervously with the skirt of her black cocktail dress and reaching out to firmly clasp the stem of her wine glass, pouring the burning fluid down her throat in an attempt to quell the pain.

The anger bubbling beneath the depths of her pain remained largely hidden; a small but persistent sylph dancing through her mind and urging her to be reasonable: _Troy was a good guy; he wouldn't stand her up for no reason; there was a rational explanation. _

He chose that moment to materialise in the door-way, a look of sorrow and anxiety visible in every line of his face as he made his way towards their table. Gabriella may have had her back to him, she may not have been able to see him, but she knew that he was there: the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. She stiffened, sitting up straight in her seat, her thumb and fore-finger grasping the wine-glass resolutely. She couldn't bear to look at him; the moment that she did, her composure would shatter: she would cry in humiliation; scream at him in anger, weep in disappointment – at herself and at him.

"Gabriella," his croaky voice brushed her ear in a whisper. "I am so, so sorry…I …work…and then, I just didn't get chance to call…"

The lie wasn't credible. It wouldn't have been even if he hadn't stunk of cigar smoke and alcohol.

"I didn't realise that your office was some cheap bar now," Gabriella murmured, her fingers resuming their play at the silky hem of her dress.

"I swear to you, I was working. This project came in…it needed finishing. It was just the guys that were smoking and drinking, it was Zeke's birthday…I was with them for a bit, like over an hour ago, but then we got the call and I had to go. I thought that I would make it on time, I swear. And then by time I realised and got the chance to phone it was too late. Gabi…"

"You made me forget," she sighed. "I forgot everything because of you…this…and you didn't even remember me…"

She showed no sign of moving; the one thing that Troy could be thankful for as he scurried around the table and into his chair.

"I didn't forget you!" he exclaimed, horrified that she might truly believe it. "Gabriella, I swear, you are the one thing that gets me through every day. I could never forget you…"

"I left work early today," Gabriella continued, her voice eerily steady. It was as though she hadn't heard him. "I haven't done that for…ever. I spent so long getting dressed…for you…I made sure I got here early so that we could have the best table…and…"

Her thoughts trailed off; it was too painful to try and voice them to him.

"Gabriella, please…." Troy was begging now.

"I think that I'm going to go home now," Gabriella sighed, a lone tear burning a trail down her flawless cheek.

"I need you…" Troy choked out in desperation.

For the first time since he had arrived, Gabriella looked up; her eyes meeting his. i_He looks sorry_, /i she mused detached. "I thought that I needed you…." She was amazed by her own determination not to give in to him. "But this is…" Her eyes fell. "It's the anniversary of my parent's death tomorrow," her voice carried on, her mind unsure why she was compelled to divulge this piece of information, as it always was when dealing with Troy. She scoffed: "…and I forgot about it…because of you and tonight…the one thing that has…"

Troy felt an incomparable urge to be sick; the acid boiling the pit of his stomach and shooting painful sparks to his heart and brain. The consequences of his stupidity were only growing in gravity. He felt his own tears welling in the corner of his eyes; the saline pricking at his conscience. "How?" he found himself asking.

"A car crash," she sighed – feeling as if anybody but her was giving the same old, rehearsed lie.

Gabriella paused, pushing her chair out slowly. "This is what I was afraid of. I can't lose somebody else that I care about that much...I need to go home now, Troy."

She stood, the black silk sliding to rest at her knees as she straightened; taking Troy's eyes with it. She looked miraculous, he thought, in spite of the pain written in her eyes; a pain which somehow made her appear majestic.

"Gabriella…" The utterance of her name sounded foreign to both of their ears. The name that normally danced through the air like a promise-filled Shakesperean sonnet had metamorphosed into an excruciating plea – a plea that found no response. The deity shrouded in black slinked from the room; Troy Bolton left heartbroken in her wake.

**A/N: So, sorry about the cliffhanger. The more reviews, the quicker the update though ;)**

**Also another reminder to any readers of "Falling Into You"...I have posted an update at _The Music in Me_. The link is in my signature.**


	6. Alignment

Auflösung Part 2

Fingers drumming on the steering wheel, Troy Bolton knew that he was an ass. The reasons for this stemmed well beyond his current activity: starting with his lies about his job; cruising over stupidity the night before when he had foolishly thought that he would be able to combine the mission that meant so much to him with Gabriella; but raising to a definite height at that precise moment in time. He hadn't slept last night, the sick feeling in his stomach and intolerable self-loathing making any attempts impossible. The look on her face – her ghost like demeanour- and the knowledge that he had played more than a minor role in its appearance had haunted him from the very moment that he had laid eyes on her in the restaurant. He had thought of a million ways to try and make it up to her, to make her see that he just couldn't live without her; even though part of him knew that he should leave her; that he loved her too much to be the cause of so much sorrow.

Even more stupid and selfish was the way that he had chosen to try and get her back. It was ironic, really, using the tools of his job in order to track her down. He knew that she was at her apartment, even if she was ignoring him, because he had tracked the activity on her landline. And so he had waited, covertly, outside the building; knowing that she had to emerge at some point. When she got into her car at eleven the next morning he gave her a five minute start before trailing her using GPS tracking.

His heart sunk when the flashing red marker indicating Gabriella's movement came to a stop in a place that always made his blood run cold; it seemed that they really were destined to meet – both of their sorrow-stained lives tied to this location. Taking a deep breath as he pulled up in front of the graveyard, Troy tried to calm his shaking hands: he could see it from here; one of the only remaining material reminders of his brother. Respectfully, Troy walked through the desolate, overgrown landscape of the cemetery; for the moment too overcome with emotion at being in the place to automatically seek out Gabriella. She would need her time, too.

Troy's feet dragged along the ground until he stopped in front of his brother's resting place; the inscription on the cold stone congealing his blood like it always did. "Daniel Bolton. 1988-2010. Loving son, brother and friend. We'll never forget you." He ran his hand over the curve of the stone, his fingers tracing the grooves of the script. "Hey," he whispered. "I'm sorry I've not been for a few weeks. Things have been a bit crazy." He chuckled. "Big bro's done something really stupid. I totally got caught up in work again and was late to my anniversary dinner with Gabi. She was so angry, rightly. You'd have thought that I might have learned….after what happened with you…work isn't important. You two are…though…I think she broke up with me." Troy's voice cracked as he spoke, now completely transported to his own bubble; entirely oblivious to the presence of somebody watching him in the distance. "I love her so much, you know. I keep telling you, and you probably think I'm so pathetic, but I don't know what to do without her. I really didn't think I would be late. I've just…I've really messed up." Troy was silent for a few minutes, his head in his hand. "You know, I can't believe I even followed her here. She needs her space, especially today…and I wouldn't leave her alone. She deserves so much more than me, than what I can give. I'm just going to get her hurt…" He chuckled. "I miss having you around to give me a good slap around the head whenever I get impulsive like this…"

"That's what you've got me for…"

The soft voice sent an ice-cold bolt through Troy's body. He turned slowly, part of him expecting the voice to have been a spectre of his imagination and wishing to prolong the hope of her presence as long as possible. He had the decency to look ashamed as he stared up at her through his eyelashes. He was somewhat dumbstruck; with no clue how he should react. Despite all of the time that he had spent trying to figure out a way to gain a hearing, he had absolutely no idea what he should say to her.

"This is a coincidence," she mused, quietly.

Troy sighed. "I followed you here. But then I stopped by to see Dan…and realised what a jerk I was being…you need your time with them…"

"Yeah," Gabriella dropped down onto the ground next to him, pulling her coat in tighter to her body and beginning to play with the weeds scattered around the gravestone. Gabriella had walked around the edge of the graveyard twice as she tried to build up the courage to visit her parents' graves; noticing the familiar figure crouched dejectedly over another plot of ground on her second tour. She had only watched him for a few moments before her feet had begun to carry towards him; her feet seemingly acting of their own volition. The first time that they had met, she hadn't been able to deny the pull between them. She still couldn't: no matter the circumstances. "I feel guilty…"

"Why?" It figured that even when they were fighting conversation would flow so naturally.

"The last ten years, I've felt their loss everyday. It's just part of me. And I forgot that today was the anniversary….what sort of daughter does that make me?" It didn't matter what he had done to her; he would always be the only person that she could talk to this openly.

Placing a tentative hand over hers lying on the ground, Troy shuffled closer. "One that they'd be proud of," he whispered. "They wouldn't want you to spend your entire life in the shadow of their death. You not automatically thinking about it means that you've achieved what they would want for you…"

Tears now running freely down her face, Gabriella sniffled at Troy's suggestion. "Why is it that I can't do this without you?"

Troy was quiet; not knowing how to respond.

"I should be livid with you; but I can't be more than disappointed. I spent the whole night crying…but it wasn't because of how much you upset me last night, but because I couldn't bear the thought that it had been the last time I would see you…"

"God, Gabi, I know." Troy measured his words carefully, knowing that his next step was crucial. "I don't deserve you to take me back, but I promise that last night is the last time I am ever going to let myself get carried away by work." Troy laced their fingers together. "I'm still learning how to actually live again…I've been trying, I really have…but now I know more than anything that I want that life. I want you. God I'll give up my job and spend every waking moment showing you how much I want to be with you, if you'd like…"

Gabriella emitted a throaty giggle. "No, it's all right." She took a deep breath. "I love you, Troy. I really do; more than I ever thought I could love anyone again. If we carry on with this…if this is going to work…we have to be the most important thing. Work can't come first anymore…"

Troy nodded slowly. "Of course…"

"I know I'm being needy but you know, now more than ever, that I have issues that I'm still dealing with…"

"Gabi, you're not. And you're right. I won't let anything get in the way of how I feel for you anymore. I love you too much. And I promise I'll never hurt you again…"

"I know…" Gabriella let her head fall to rest on Troy's shoulder, tears now pricking at the corners of her eyes for a different reason. "God, I love you."

"Not as much as I love you…"

"I don't think that's possible," she sniffled into his neck.

"You won't win this argument, Montez," he whispered into her hair, trailing his nose down her face and beginning to kiss away the tear marks. As he nose came to rest on a level with hers, he opened his eyes again to be met with Gabriella's intent gaze. "I love you," he spoke the words more deliberately this time; communicating once and for all through voice and look the full depth of those three words. She didn't have chance to reply as his lips brushed against hers deliberately and adoringly. They sipped at each other's lips for a few minutes; in awe at the fact that their connection suddenly made it seem easier to breathe.

Smiling giddily, Troy pulled back. "You know, my brother will get real pissed off if we sit here making out on his grave…"

Gabriella blushed, embarrassed slightly. "Does it help…you know, to talk to him?"

Troy shrugged. "I think so. It makes me feel like he's still here in some way. The guys sometimes worry that I'm in denial but…"

"…it just makes sense…" Gabriella finished for him.

"Yeah…"

"Will you come with me?" she requested, nervously.

"Of course I will," Troy replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He stood up, reaching down to pull Gabriella to her feet. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, allowing himself to be led in the direction of her parents' graves; only pausing momentarily to whisper a heart-felt goodbye to his brother.

The pair came to a rest not more than a few yards away from Daniel's grave; the short distance apparently another reminder of the fate shared by the couple. Gabriella gripped Troy's hand tightly, shaking slightly as she stood in front of the double gravestone; one which was fairly simple in comparison to his brother's.

"What do I say?" Gabriella asked; her words whispered nervously.

"Just say 'hi'…" Troy responded, even more quietly; not wanting to intrude on this family moment more than he already was.

"Hey, mom…dad…" Gabriella started uncertainly; looking up to Troy for his reassurance as she spoke; receiving an encouraging smile and hand squeeze in return. "I still miss you…I wish you could be here to see that…I think I'm starting to move on. I have someone new to help look after me now. And…I guess…I guess I just wanted to say that I'm happy now…"

The couple shared an understanding look as she uttered the words; through this deeper insight into the other's life, they knew that they could move forward. Another obstacle in their path had been overwhelmed. Little did they know that another power was working to bring their futures into even closer alignment.


	7. Anxiety

Why is it that you can do something over and over again, carried away by routine and not stopping to register its hardly ideal nature, until one day something changes, without you even realising its implications, and the mere thought of continuing with t

iWhy is it that you can do something over and over again, carried away by routine, until one day something changes, without you even realising its implications, and the mere thought of continuing with this familiar task becomes abhorrent? And why is it that this realisation always chooses to reveal itself at the most inopportune of moments? If Gabriella had taken just one moment to truly consider the varied, and despicable, things that she had done in the name of her job, she would have come to this realisation much earlier. However, it was more or less a prerequisite of the life of an assassin that contemplation and reflection on the morality of one's employment rarely occur. It had been a natural progression for Gabriella to become what she was; circumstance moulding her path and in no way furnishing her with the tools to avert what seemed to be her destiny. Too closed off to the rest of the world, she just wasn't going to think about what she was doing.

Shivering when she heard the door creak closed, signalling the entry of somebody else into the room, Gabriella stared at herself shyly in the full length mirror. She was used to playing the victim, using her body to get what she wanted: men were easy targets when their blood was flowing to an organ that posed altogether less risk to her mission than their brain. Her raven curls slithered across her mocha skin, the deep red of her lace bodice clinging to her curves and tempting the beholder's eyes away from the obvious provocation of her fishnet stockings. Normally all that it would take was an alluring smile, a couple of well-chosen phrases depending on the particular target's predilections, and she had them distracted enough to put a bullet through their brains, to wrap a noose around their necks, before they had a chance to realise what was happening.

Today, however, was different. The lingerie may have come from the wardrobe of Gabriella the Seductress, but the insecurity definitely hadn't. She watched, embarrassed, as the reflection of the room showed him moving closer to her, devouring her with his eyes. This was the moment that she should have started her act; yet she couldn't fasten the cloak of deception. All that she could think about was Troy. She felt dirty. She felt treacherous. She felt broken. She could picture the look in his eyes were he to ever find out what she was doing and how she was betraying him. It was killing her.

Her body trembled as the target's clammy hands came into contact with her shoulders; his humid, putrid breath corroding the skin of her neck. His eyes consumed her; taking her poise and confidence and chewing at them mercilessly until only a single crumb of awareness remained. It wasn't supposed to be messy. It wasn't supposed to be loud. Gabriella wasn't supposed to lose her composure. But the feel of his hands on her body and the image of Troy's disappointed eyes boring into her divested all of this of significance. It took her precisely five seconds to disable him, and another minute to send a bullet on a destructive path through his brain; coating the wall behind them in a sinister, chaotic red. Gabriella wasn't supposed to barely escape with her life that evening. When she made it back to the safe house two hours later than scheduled, however, she had to thank her lucky stars that she had suffered no permanent damage; physical at least. As she slipped into an exhausted, painful slumber, only one word was on her mind.

Troy. /i

--

An indeterminate number of hours later, when Gabriella finally awoke from her recuperative sleep, she trudged into the safe-house's makeshift kitchen, bruised and deflated.

Silently she accepted the steaming mug and painkillers offered to her by Taylor; allowing the items to work their magic before she even attempted to communicate.

"What happened?" Taylor began the conversation, as was usual. Not customary, however, was the concern and shock evidently wrapped around every syllable. It was rare for one of Gabriella's missions to deviate even slightly from the plan. Once half an hour had elapsed after the proposed closed of the mission and Gabriella still hadn't returned, Taylor had grown anxious; every further passing minute stretching time agonisingly; the gulf between the close of a successful mission and the probability of a safe return growing increasingly untraversable.

"I froze," Gabriella confessed into the empty mug. "I thought of Troy and I felt guilty. I shouldn't have let anybody else near me in that way, never mind instigating the situation."

"Gabriella," Taylor started, unsure how to continue: there wasn't a huge amount of precedence for this sort of conversation; when are you really going to get experience about how to give relationship advice to a hit-woman? That said, Taylor had wondered when this sort of situation would become an issue.

"It doesn't matter though." The admission of her friend saved Taylor from having to comment further. "I got the job done. I didn't fail. It just didn't go as smoothly as we had hoped."

"I'll say." Scoffing, Taylor refused to sugar-coat the situation; no matter how sorry for herself Gabriella was feeling. "You look like you only just managed to claw your way back from death's door."

"I'm fine." The insistence of Gabriella's affirmation was rendered impotent by the reality evident in her posture and appearance.

The pair sat in silence; truth needing no further words.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this," Gabriella whispered softly, almost imploringly; needing somebody to make her decision her easier.

Nodding her head slowly, Taylor carefully measured her words. "I don't know whether you've got a choice."

--

The darkness of the December evening lent the small home an undeservedly ominous aspect. Gabriella couldn't reach the front door quickly enough: wanting to be in Troy's arms and to have him make her forget – if only for a few hours. However, her wish wasn't to be granted in quite the way that she had planned.

Gabriella balked when she finally arrived at the threshold and saw that the door was ajar. She pushed it open wider; her heart hammering in her chest as she tentatively moved into the blackened corridor. She called his name frantically as each and every sleep disrupting nightmare of the past nine months flashed harshly through her mind; her imagination playing tricks on her and projecting torturous images onto the path lying before her feet. The cries of his name, growing louder and more desperate with each second that passed, echoed in the lifeless hallway; encasing her in its desolation.

Steeling herself, Gabriella entered through the next slightly open door. A gasp tore at her vocal cords, her hands flying to her mouth, at the sight of the red flecks strewn across the floor before her gaze landed on his body; a body not lifeless and grey but illuminated angelically by the flow of candlelight. Gabriella's eyes left his form, grinning nervously at her from across the room, as she took in her surroundings again; aghast that he had, unexpectedly, gone to so much effort for her.

Tears welled in her eyes as she absorbed the rose petals covering the floor and the fairy lights plunging the room into a romantic nirvana; a candlelit table taking pride of place in the centre of the room.

"How…?" she started. "I thought…" Watery tracks now uncontrollably running down her face, Gabriella didn't say anything else before being enveloped by Troy's arms.

"Oh God, please don't cry. I didn't want to make you cry…" he soothed, rubbing her back gently. "If I'd wanted to make you cry I wouldn't have gone to nearly so much effort to do it…"

Gabriella's wet giggles permeated the material of his dress-shirt. "I love you," she laughed into his neck before pulling back and brushing at the watery tracks on her face. "…but hate surprises," she added with a throaty laugh. "What on Earth is all of this in aid of?"

Troy leaned back from her, a contemplative expression taking control of his features. "You see," he began, his voice temptingly gentle and silken. "You've gone and spoiled everything again. I had a whole thing planned…and now I'm looking at you and I can't seem to remember why. I don't want to wait…" He chuckled as he lovingly stroked the side of Gabriella's confused face. "I was gonna time this with our nine-month anniversary, but I was too excited so I thought that we could celebrate our eight and a half month anniversary like this…you know, because we didn't get a proper sixth month…."

As he paused to take a breath and mull over his next words, Gabriella muttered her own amused sentiment. "Eight and a half month anniversary? I've never heard of that one before…"

"Yeah, I know…" Troy picked up. "Neither have I, but it was just an excuse….something that would distract you from the real reason until I gathered enough courage." His eyes widened. "And now I've just reminded myself and I think that I might be sick. Just bear that in mind, you know, that I want this so much that I'm physically feeling ill…"

Heart racing, with no idea why, Gabriella froze when Troy took a step back from her, slowly crouching down until he was on one knee. "Troy…what are you…." The question died on her lips as he reached into his pocket. "I…Oh my…"

A small, velvet box in his hand and an adoring smile on his face, Troy silenced her with his eyes. "Shhhh, you're ruining it," he lulled. "The thing is, Gabi, I really, really…" He laughed. "I really, really, really, really love you. And I just couldn't wait a damn minute longer before I asked you to marry me…"

"Me?" Gabriella squeaked, gobsmacked.

"If you don't mind…"

"Am I dreaming?"

"I hope not. Because if you are, then I must be, and I don't think that I can go through the uncertainty again…Speaking of…"

"Oh…"

"I can show you the ring if that helps…," he suggested in amusement, taking her hand and placing the open box onto it.

"Oh," she repeated, crying again as she caught sight of the most perfect ring that she had ever laid eyes on. Her gaze didn't remain trained on the ring for long, flicking immediately back to the handsome face staring hopefully up at her. "Did I say yes yet?" she asked through her tears.

"No…"

"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" she cried delightedly, dropping to her knees and throwing her arms around Troy's neck; their mouths meeting in a series of ecstatically sloppy kisses. One hand held Gabriella tightly against him whilst the other fumbled with the ring box; removing the platinum band and placing it onto her finger.

"I have champagne…and food…" Troy mumbled when Gabriella tore her lips away from his and began fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, sending a few flying in her hurry to remove the item of clothing. His desire to try and stick to one part of his plans for the evening, however, waned as Gabriella's hands began to caress the smooth planes of his upper body and her mouth followed their trail before settling at the hollow of his neck and beginning to teasingly nip and suck at the skin before pulling away.

"Did you say something about food, fiancée?" Despite the ease with which the word rolled off her tongue, she couldn't help but blush in wonder.

"Food? Where?" he growled, pulling her mouth back to his and loving her with his lips. Neither of them was in a rush to move from their spot in the middle of the living room; Troy simply rolled their bodies backwards until he was hovering above her. Lying beneath him, her features bathed in candlelight, Gabriella reminded Troy in that moment of the first evening that they had slept together and the indescribable tension that had flowed between them on the hotel's rooftop bar. It was a tension that had never faded, but had simply grown stronger and evolved as an increasing number of emotions became attached to it. They took their time undressing each other, overcome by feelings of awe and excitement over the commitment that they had just made to the other. As Troy's mouth set out on a pilgrimage across Gabriella's body, he frowned at the purple patch spread across her left hand side. Looking up at Gabriella questioningly, concerned, Troy should have noticed the fear that flashed across her eyes momentarily before she managed to cover herself.

"I slipped and fell…"

Troy had no chance to ascertain the truth of her claim; his mouth aggressively occupied by hers as she flipped them over and ground her centre against his straining length. His back against the floor, Troy's own new battle scar remained concealed to her eyes.

Even as their future paths threatened to converge once and for all, the pair remained entangled in an intricate web of lies. Commitment does not automatically equate to honesty. Happily ever after, however, does.


	8. Closer

**A/N: Thank you again for the reviews. The "story" as such starts to get going from this point onwards…**

**Also to readers of "FALLING INTO YOU" my Zanessa story that got deleted, there are 2 new chapters up on **_**The Music in Me. **_**The link is in my profile.**

Sensing a presence opposite her, Gabriella closed the file that she was reading in an attempt to act nonchalant: nobody knew about her 'attachment' to the particular documents contained within it. It was funny how one 5mm thick wad of papers could symbolise so much and yet represent so little. It simultaneously signified the end of her life – or at least of any possible 'normal' life- whilst also serving as a constant reminder of the essential 'nothingness' surrounding it. Almost ten years on, all that Gabriella had was a name and a history that seemed to stop a week after her parents' deaths. According to all evidence, "Johnson" had practically died; but Gabriella knew that he couldn't have: he was too good for that.

"Come on, Gabriella," Taylor chided. "No need to be pouring over files for this one. It'll be nice and easy: in, bang-dead, out, cocktails…"

Gabriella cocked an eyebrow: not because of the candour with which Taylor was speaking to her, something that had grown increasingly normal, but because of the zeal with which Taylor was speaking. "Cocktails?"

"Of course!" Taylor practically squeaked in her happiness.

"Somebody's chirpy…" Gabriella said with a wry smile, her questioning of the cause implicit in her remark.

"I like weddings…" The reply of her friend was almost defensive.

"And…"

"And nothing, Gabriella. Why does there have to be a nothing?"

"You're a terrible liar. Your eyebrows get really pointy and high. And the wedding isn't for another week, in any case."

_Damn it_, Taylor thought. She was busted. "Well, you know, I _am_ the maid of honour…"

Gabriella allowed her head to sink to the table. "Oh Lord…no, no, no…"

"But, Gabriella, how often do you get the chance to have a hen party in Las Vegas?"

"Hen party?" Gabriella groaned into her folded arms. "We're here to work," she added as she narrowed her eyes at Taylor.

"It's tradition." Any attempt made by Taylor to appear casual dissolved into a plea. "Just a few cocktails for congratulations on a job well done and, you know, the obvious impending wedding…"

"I don't know," Gabriella sighed. _It couldn't do any harm, _she supposed. _ It was ever so slightly unprofessional, though _'Gabriella before Troy' would be turning in her proverbial grave. On the other hand, their target _was_ low risk with no security detail to worry about.

"Come on, Gabriella. The Bellagio is right across the street. My cousin Drew works for their event organizers and has even got us VIP access to the bar and club. What could go wrong?"

As Gabriella weighed up the possibilities, carefully calculating the risks and negatives of a post-mission hen party, she played with the file in front of her; an action that Taylor was not oblivious to. The dark-skinned girl narrowed her eyes upon noticing the discoloured, worn item for the first time since she had taken a seat opposite Gabriella. Whether Gabriella was aware of the fact or not, her constant perusing of the documents contained in it did not pass unnoticed by the rest of them: there was only such much that you could hide from someone in their profession.

"Okay."

Taylor whipped her head back to Gabriella's face when her boss spoke.

"Okay?" she asked distractedly. "Oh, okay! Excellent. I can't wait! And you'll be dressed perfectly for a bit of partying…"

"Reserved, sensible partying…"

Taylor looked at her friend disbelievingly. "Of course we'll be respectable."

Gabriella smiled somewhat shyly at the girl sitting opposite her. "I…" she paused, not quite sure what she was trying to say and even less certain of how to word it. Suddenly the simple two words that she was searching for hit her. "Just, thank you." Beginning to play nervously with the edges of the file again, Gabriella avoided Taylor's eyes. "It's a long time since I've had a friend. And I probably don't deserve it…after all this time. But I'm really glad that you are here."

She was startled by the pressure of another hand resting over hers. "Don't sweat it, Gabriella." Taylor took a deep breath. "And I'm going to say this as a friend:" she removed her hand from Gabriella's and took hold of the file sitting between them. "You need to let whatever is in here go."

Frowning in confusion, Gabriella lifted her head again to look at Taylor. "How…I don't know what you mean?"

Shaking her head, Taylor smiled sadly. "Every day, at least once but sometimes twice, you sit and read through this file. Every time that you close it you have the same look of frustration and annoyance on your face. You've been doing it for five years: of course I noticed."

Hesitantly, Gabriella pushed the file towards Taylor. "It's about the guy that killed my parents. He was their rival. He disappeared off the face of the Earth about a week after their death. I need to find him and…get closure."

Slowly, Taylor nodded. "Do you not think that it's time to move past this obsession? It isn't healthy to be stuck in the past; especially now."

"But I owe them…"Gabriella muttered softly, her head sinking again as she avoided eye contact.

"Gabriella." Taylor spoke clearly and determined. "There is a huge difference between forgetting and moving on."

"I don't know how…"

"By looking towards the future; your future with Troy. You can't afford to have anything else stand in the way of your happiness."

In a moment of enlightenment, Gabriella had the courage to look Taylor in the eyes – truly in the eyes- and to see the reality of her situation. If there was something that she had missed in the reports, she would have found it years ago. Gabriella needed to move on. She laid a determined hand upon the file, before forcing it off the edge of the table; watching as the papers scattered across the floor. Taylor was right: the past needed to stay in the past.

- - - - - -

"Woah," Troy exclaimed as he was blindfolded and forced into a car. "Guys, what the hell are you doing?"

"Kidnapping you," Zeke stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well yeah, I got that. But why?"

The three men glanced at each other before letting out a collective cheer. "Bucks night!"

"Oh come on, I thought we decided against that?"

Chad spoke up before the others got chance to add their two cents. "You decided that. I, however, am best man and in these matters my opinion overrules yours."

"And why is the blindfold necessary?"

"Surprise, duh." Jason responded, climbing into the backseat of Chad's jeep next to Troy.

Sarcasm laced Troy's voice as he replied: "Great."

"Oh come on, loser. What's wrong with a bit of partying to celebrate your last week as a non-committed man?"

"I am committed, though," Troy whined. He knew what his friends were like and feared what they would have planned. "I swear there better not be any strippers."

The three shared a sheepish look. "Psssh, strippers. As if?" Zeke answered hesitantly, waving a finger wildly in front of his neck as an indicator that one of the others needed to cancel 'Candi.'

"Oh crap." It was the only response that Troy could muster under the given circumstances. After half an hour of being driven around literally blind, Troy was beginning to get frustrated with his friends' elusiveness_. It was typical that the guys chose that moment to practise exercising their limited willpower and stealth. _"Seriously, tell me now or I might do something that we will all regret."

"Troy, dude, you can't menace us."

"Uh, guys," Despite Jason's somewhat vacant nature, he sometimes made a very good point: "Do you think they'll let us put Troy on the plane blindfolded and tied up?"

Troy's spluttered _"No way!"_ became lost in the disappointed groans of the others.

"Damn it," Chad cursed. "We could just tell him?"

"I am here you know…" Troy may as well not have been.

"But what if he won't come?"

"He wouldn't _be that _ boring would he?"

"He's got worse since Gabriella…"

Jason was, however, mainly dense: "I can't believe we've splashed out on a ticket to Las Vegas and he's not going to come."

Zeke and Chad turned in their seats to look disbelievingly at their friend. "Great, dude," Chad muttered as he swerved to avoid passing into the next lane.

"Las Vegas?" Troy chirped skeptically once he was sure that his friends would actually pay attention to them.

"Yeah…" they chorused hesitantly.

"Gabi's in Las Vegas for work…"

"Typical," Chad muttered under his breath. "Well you're ours this weekend. No matter how hot your fiancée is."

"And there will be no strippers. Or drugs. Or excessive drunkenness?"

"If you insist."

"Okay then, I can cope with that."

"Cool. Nice to still you still have balls, dude. Now hand over your phone."

"What? Why?"

"It's the only way to be sure that we don't lose you to the Mrs…"

Troy looked longingly at his i-phone before reluctantly typing a quick message to Gabriella explaining the plans of his crazed friends and handing the item over. He only prayed that he would survive the day.

- - - - - -

The job was easy; Gabriella was pretty sure that she could have done it in her sleep.

An attractive woman sat in a dark corner of a bar, nursing a drink: it never took long for a certain type of person to approach her.

"Would you like some company?" She could have rolled her eyes at the predictability of the question.

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm kind of waiting for someone."

"You've been waiting a while." The target slid into the booth opposite her and immediately entangled himself in Gabriella's deathly snare. "It would be rude for me to make you wait alone."

Gabriella leaned across the table as she spoke, the greasy man mirroring her actions. _This really was too easy. _ Reaching into her handbag, Gabriella tightened her grip on the handle of the gun before sliding it out of the bag and pressing it into his stomach. Before he had chance to react to the cold of the barrel against his chest, she had pulled the trigger; any sound absorbed by the silencer and the chatter of the bar. The job was done; the evidence of the mission's completion slumped over the table: not at all seeming out of place. Gabriella slipped her weapon back into her bag before making a movement to stand.

"Dude, I need a break!"

The heart-warmingly familiar voice and laughter stilled her actions.

"Troy Bolton does not take breaks!" Chad was insistent.

"They'll never let us in if we keep drinking."

"Maybe we should gag him?" Jason suggested.

"How would he drink?"

"Oh my God," Troy groaned, his head falling almost painfully against the bar. He was helpless and dumb amidst the bantering of his friends. "I swear that if I don't make it to my wedding, I will come back and like poltergeist you all…"

"Shut up, man!"

The corners of her lips twitching momentarily in amusement, Gabriella almost forgot to be concerned by the fact that she was sitting opposite a dead body with a gun in her bag whilst her fiancé was on the other side of the bar. Her eyes widened. Chancing a brief look over her shoulder, Gabriella sighed in relief when she noticed that the group of men had moved towards a booth near the front entrance of the bar: she could easily slip out of the back without being noticed. As she escaped out the rear exit she had to take a moment to compose herself. She waited, against her better judgement, a few minutes with her head resting against the wall; just to be sure that she hadn't been spotted. Convinced of her luck, Gabriella slinked off to meet Taylor.

She was no longer in the mood to celebrate.

How could she fully commit herself to Troy when she was keeping something so monumental from him?

Something had to give.

- - - -

Troy was sure that this kind of thing only happened in movies. He was aware of the movements of his body, and of the chatter and jubilation of his friends, but nothing apart from the figure at the edge of his line of version could be perceived with any clarity. Perhaps if he had drunk one less beer and a few less shots, he could have been certain. It probably would have helped him to be positive had Chad not chosen that minute to nudge him repeatedly trying to get his attention. He would have recognised that face anywhere, though. Everything was a blur of light or sound: everything apart from him. It was a profile that Troy had memorised; a face before which he had shuddered in his nightmares. He was the embodiment of Troy's misery.

And then as soon as Troy had caught sight of him, he was gone.

"Dude…forfeit shot for not drinking that one quickly enough!" Troy's attention was snatched back by his friends when Chad shoved the glass under his nose.

"Man, you look like you've seen a ghost!" Jason cried, spilling half of his own drink down his throat in his excitement.

"I think I have," Troy muttered, trying to shake the cobwebs from his brain and peering towards the back of the bar. Tipping the burning fluid down his throat, Troy was certain of one thing: he really needed to put the whole painful affair behind him.

- - - - -

Numerous hours, and infinite quantities of alcohol later, Troy and his friends stumbled through the door of one of their hotel rooms. It didn't take long before they had begun to pass out, one by one. Somehow, however, Troy had managed to be the last one of them still awake, and he was sure that it had something to do with what, or rather who, he thought he had seen before. How could it be possible that, after three years of searching and hoping that he would get an opportunity for revenge, the person responsible for his brother's death could appear out of the blue; and a week before his wedding? Maybe he'd been imagining things. Perhaps it had been his minds last effort at tricking his sight before Troy truly moved on? He just couldn't be sure.

As Troy started to slouch down to the floor from where he was leaning against the bed, there was only one person that he wanted. Impressively maneuvering his way across the room and over the comatose bodies on the floor, Troy haphazardly frisked Chad; not at all concerned about whether he woke his friend – if it was, in fact, possible.

He smiled drowsily in victory when he located his phone, pressing speed dial and grinning at the croaky response of his fiancée. "Hello?"

"Hey babe," he slurred lazily.

Giggling, Gabriella turned on the bedside lamp. "Are you drunk, Troy?"

"Maybe a little bit or a lot a bit…"

"Did you have fun?"

"Yeah," he yawned; allowing his body to fully slump to the floor with a soft thud. "I think that my liver is probably dead. Will you still marry me without a liver?"

The complete seriousness of his question made Gabriella snort; she'd never really been a witness to Troy when he was drunk. "Of course, baby."

"I hate my friends." His voice was growing increasingly raspy and strained with every word.

"Mhmm, sweetie…." She didn't get chance to say anything else before Troy continued with his slurred speech.

"…cos I had to not see you the whole entire night. And you're here…and I'm here….but you're not here. I want you here, Gabi…" He almost whined the last part of his sentence.

"Do you know which hotel you're staying in?" Gabriella asked; not in the slightest bit annoyed that she had been woken up at 5am: her and Taylor's night had, indeed, been entirely respectable.

"I…no…" Troy pouted. "But I know what room. It's number sixty, no seventy six…"

"Seventy six?" Gabriella repeated, amused.

"Yes seven-six. Seventy six…I'm sleepy, Gabi…"

"You should go to sleep then, Troy."

"I love you, lots and lots and lots…"

"I love you lots too,"

"Okay, I need to pass out now…"

"Okay…Sweet dreams, baby." Gabriella laughed as she heard her boyfriend snoring down the line. "Troy?"

The next week couldn't pass quickly enough.

**A/N: Passable? ;-) Let me know!**


	9. Impossible Fairytale

**A/N: Just a little reminder that Falling Into You has been updated - the link is in my profile!**

Perfection is a high benchmark by which to judge something. Is there something or somebody in existence that is incomparably complete and flawless in every single conceivable respect? Is it fair to denounce something as imperfect just because it doesn't reach this benchmark in every way?

Troy ran his fingers over the pristine wedding photograph, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat every time he caught sight of Gabriella in her wedding dress. The day HAD been perfect - how could semantics ever deny them that. She had been breathtaking; in the effortless, pure way that she always was. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he had been facing a losing battle against the tears as soon as she had begun to walk down the small isle; the simplicity of her white dress merely serving to highlight her radiance. Gabriella, Troy thought, was possibly the only bride in existence that didn't need the dress to complete the look: she had effervesced with bridal happiness and beauty. The ceremony had been simple: the focus lay where it should. The church was small and understated in its charm. The audience was restricted to their four closest friends; the only other four people that understood just how important their love for one and other was. The wedding had been perfect: from the heartfelt uttering of their vows, to the tears that glistened in every person's eyes. This union was something special: it was hope, salvation and, most importantly, love in its purest form: embodied in these two people.

She was perfect: stunningly compassionate and strong and radiant. Yet that was only his judgment. The traits of her personality that danced with overwhelming charm and captivatingly powerful over the surface of her character veiled he less than appealing truth: she was a killer; she was a liar; she was broken. She was not perfect. Troy just didn't know that yet.

It had been perfect, Troy sighed; fighting to remain composed. She thought that he was perfect, she told him time and time again - as she whispered increasingly corrosive kisses across his naked body as they made love; when he made guilt-filled offerings of flowers in a desperate attempt to palliate his contrition; sometimes when they were simply sitting together and she would look up at him in wonder. Would she hold the same opinion if she knew the truth? If he walked through the door after a day of work and replaced the tired, scalding lies ('another server failure', 'this damn system replacement is just causing more problems than we anticipated') with the terrible truth - 'I killed 3 men today.'

"Troy, man, we need to get started..."

He looked up from the photograph, a lone tear puddled on its surface, and nodded grimly.

He was no more perfect than their sham of a wedding had been.

Neither was she.

* * *

_**…Hereto I pledge you my faithfulness.**_

_**To have and to hold, from this day forward...**_

_She burst through the door of their home, distraught: four members of her team were dead. She and Taylor should have been too. The only thing that had saved her life that day was chance; the simple decision to grab lunch with Taylor before they caught their plane. If they had stayed to oversee the team packing up, they too would have been caught in the blast. The constant risk of somebody actually caring about a colleague's death had finally caught up with them: revenge had been too easy - a detonator attached to the bottom of their reconnaissance vehicle. Five minutes. If they had been five minutes later they would have been dead. Gabriella would never have been able to tell Troy that she loved him, to realize her impossibly ordinary fairytale further. It was a completely terrifying realization._

_It only took one look at him, completely perfect in his breathtaking normalcy, to violently shatter her composure. She collapsed, her limbs shredded by the body-wracking sobs. Like an angel, her scooped her into his arms – despairingly placing kisses against her tear weathered face and whispering soothing words against her ear. She couldn't speak, she couldn't explain; how would she ever be able to?_

_Troy allowed her to cry, as agonizing as it was for him. The last time that he had seen somebody so utterly distressed and broken had been when his brother had died; but he had lived that period of his life through a transparent screen, the emotions and happenings swirling around him barely perceived and not truly felt. Yet to see, to wholly experience Gabriella in such a state was mind-numbingly petrifying. He didn't know what to do._

_There was no scale by which to measure the duration of her frantic sobbing but eventually her cries subsided; her body presumably too weak and dry of tears to continue as it had been. It didn't mean that she was better, though. She stared_

_straight ahead, and hardly responded to his touch or to his voice; it was as if she was locked within some other terrible reality - the pain it was causing patent in her eyes and burning him to the core._

_"Gabi," he whispered; his voice hoarse and frightened. "Please tell me what's wrong..."_

_She was silent._

_"Gabi, I can't...let me fix this..."_

_"You can't."_

_Had he heard her? Her reply had been so weak that Troy wondered whether he had imagined it; even if it would have been a response straight from his most horrifying nightmare._

_"What? Why?" he urged gently, interlacing his fingers with her own limp ones and bringing them to his mouth, brushing wet kisses over her palm before pressing a resolute kiss over the finger holding her wedding ring._

_She was quiet again; deathly pale and unfamiliar in her mental absence._

_Slowly Troy saw something begin to stir in her eyes, a sense of recognition. And fear. Gabriella shifted in his arms and began to clutch at his clothing; burying herself into his body._

_Minutes later she spoke; her voice soft and almost pleading. "I had a really bad day."_

_If he hadn't been so shaken by her previous distress, Troy might have laughed. There was, however, no humor to be found in this situation. How could such a justification even begin to explain what had made her feel like this?_

_"Gabi?" He uttered her name as a disbelieving question._

_Their eyes met for the first time since he had taken her flaccid form into his arms. Her every emotion latent in her watery brown orbs undulated imploringly at him. As much as it broke him, he would submit to her pleas._

_"Just hold me, please." Her request was simple and overpowering, impelling him to cling to her body desperately._

_Their cleaving embrace almost entirely erased time and thought._

_"Can you tell me?" Troy tried one last time._

_"It was work, I promise." The habitual lie initiated another fit of weeping._

_"Are you lying to me?" he asked; ignoring the answer that was already obvious in her face._

_"No." How much longer would it continue? "I need you," she gasped. "Just hold me." _

_And he did._

* * *

_**… for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer**__…_

_Gabriella cocked her head as she regarded her husband. She could tell him; how hard could it be? It would surely be easier to finally tell the truth than to carry on living with the lies. She had to roll her eyes at her own thoughts: how did she expect him to react? Would he simply look up from the newspaper that he was, admittedly, scowling at and say, "Oh, that's nice honey. Keep on doing that," before turning the football game on? Of course he wouldn't. She had found herself considering coming clean with Troy for a while now, though. The lies were beginning to eat away at and weary her. Superficially nothing had changed since that night a few months ago when she had broken down in his arms; in reality, however, they had truly started to grow distant. They both held back and Gabriella couldn't blame her husband: her lie must have been evident. _

_It was gradually killing her._

_So much so, that she frequently found herself considering what could really go wrong if she told him. But she couldn't. No matter how much the couple seemed to dance around an unknown truth, living and loving him from opposite a gulf of unspoken realities was and always would be a million times better than not having him at all. There was no doubt that he would want nothing to do with her once he found out about the magnitude of her lies._

"_Stop staring." His voice was curt and almost snarling._

_Gabriella was taken aback at the venom lacing his words. "I…sorry." She mumbled. He had been quiet all evening and his mood had deteriorated throughout the night; but he had never spoken to her like that before._

_He continued to fester; his eyes boring into the newspaper in his hands without taking in a word. Should she leave him be? Instinctively she knew that she should. Yet she was his wife; it was her job to make things better, wasn't it? Gabriella chewed her lip nervously as she weighed up the possibilities. Taking a deep breath she spoke; her voice tentative. "Can I get you anything?"_

_Troy snapped his head up from the newspaper, his eyes softening momentarily before they almost instantaneously grew harsh again. "No. Just…stop fussing," he snapped. He saw her flinch out of the corner of his eyes and his mood only darkened. He couldn't stand it anymore. The lies and the distance were killing him. He didn't want to go to work everyday and wonder whether he'd see her again. He didn't want to spend his life deceiving her. He couldn't bear the thought of how she would see him once she found out. He hated himself because he was starting to view himself through her future, knowing eyes. He felt sick to the stomach at the thought of his inevitable future without her. It was suffocating. _

_Troy found himself distancing himself from her as a protective mechanism: they talked; they made love, but there was always something holding them both back: she had to suspect something. She would leave him. It was inevitable. _

"_What's wrong with you?" Gabriella asked; her voice heavy with hurt. He had never spoken to her like that. They had their arguments, of course, but their snapped words were almost always immediately followed by apologies. The anger never reached their eyes. What had she done? Did he know about her deceit?_

"_Nothing," he repeated again. His insides convulsed at the word. The ever repeated 'nothing' hung between them tauntingly. _

* * *

…_**In sickness or in health… to love and to cherish…**_

_Troy groaned as he cracked his eyes open; the stark sunlight filtering through the blinds of the strange room and assaulting his retinas. Every cell of his body droned painfully, making it impossible for him to forget even for one second the agony that he was in. He had know no idea what had happened but felt inexplicably relieved at the knowledge that the blurry form at the foot of his bed would surely resolve to show his wife. As the shapes gradually became decipherable, however, his heart sank when he realized that she wasn't there. He scoffed; why would she be? Whatever had happened to him, she was the last person that would have been there to pick up the pieces._

"_Finally he wakes…" _

_Troy merely groaned in response._

"_You got whacked in the back of the head with a freaking huge vase. Don't worry though," Zeke puffed out his chest as he spoke. "I saved the day as usual and managed to drag your sorry ass out."_

_Troy couldn't even find it in himself to roll his eyes at his friends' attempts to lighten the situation; he knew that they were trying to distract him from the reality of the situation. It was his fault. He had been in such a foul mood when he had been doing background research for the mission- self-loathing and intolerable guilt reacting combustively in his conscience- that he had overlooked a subtle but vital component of the target's alarm system. Setting off the alarm had alerted his five-man strong security team of their presence and rendered the mission altogether more problematic than it ever should have been._

"_What time is it?"_

_He was supposed to be home that evening. He needed to be home that evening. After the damaging argument of two months previously, Troy and Gabriella had promised that Wednesday evenings would be their special night; the night that they were going to dedicate entirely to doing something romantic and special; the night that they could truly commit to cherishing the other._

_The three men exchanged nervous glances: they all knew how important Wednesday evenings had become for Troy's sanity and conscience: not only Troy and Gabriella could feel the onerous weight attached to their lies. "You've pretty much been out all day… It's 3pm."_

"_Our flight was an hour ago…" His blood ran cold as the realization sank in. "No way. We need to get to the airport now. I'll phone and tell her that I'll be a couple of hours late. If we leave now then I can be home for nine…" Troy attempted to sit up, but his movement was prevented by a firm hand on his shoulder. _

_This time it was Chad that spoke. "You are in no fit state to get on a plane."_

"_I'm fine. I have to get home today."_

_Chad loosened his grip on the struggling Troy; steadying him when he was overwhelmed by dizziness. "You can't go home like this..."_

_"I have to..." His voice cracked. There was no need to hide his tears in front of his friends. "I can't miss this…" He sunk back into the pillows; utterly defeated. "I need her." He wasn't just referring to the fact that she was the only thing that could possibly have any chance of making him feel better._

_"Phone her. She'll be there when you get home tomorrow."_

_Troy gulped, tears stinging his eyes. "What if she's not?" He was trying, he really was. He didn't want this life anymore: he just wanted her. As suffocating as the constant deceit may have been, the threatening possibility of a life without her seemed to have its fingers constantly wrapped around his throat; it was impossible to ignore and affected everything that he did._

_"Hey!" His heart shattered at the spring-like quality of her voice; he could feel her smile even though they were on different continents._

_"Hi," he croaked._

_She gasped: his voice betrayed everything. She had been certain that things were getting better; she had increasingly taken a back-seat on missions and was determined not to let work get in the way. She knew that things had been getting better. Perhaps she had been kidding herself. Perhaps her recent optimism had been one-sided. Maybe he still felt let down by her._

_"I..." How could he do this to her? How could he watch her break again? When were the lies going to stop? "I'm not going to make it home tonight. There's been a massive storm and my plane's been grounded. I'm so sorry, Gabi."_

"_Oh. That's okay. It's not your fault." He could hear her heart-breaking – or was that the echo of his own suffering the same fate? They exchanged a few more awkward words before the conversation plunged into silence. "Troy?" After a few moments of static she whispered his name; the fear evident in her voice. "Is it me?" She had to know._

"_Is what?" He was thrown by her question._

"_Do you…you still love me?" She choked back a sob._

"_Of course I do, Gabriella," he rushed to answer; not even sure whether his words made sense: they were spoken so hurriedly. "I love you more than you can ever imagine. I want to be there with you."_

"_You mean it?"_

_Troy could feel the tears beginning to spill from the corners of his eyes. "So, so, much…"_

_As he hung up the phone, Troy knew that he couldn't do this any longer. He had to tell her. _

* * *

_**…'til death do us part….**_

_Troy had a deathly grip on the steering wheel; it was the only way to try and keep his shaking hands under control. He had never been a nervous person, but the prospect of what he was about to do scared him more than anything else ever had done. He couldn't live with the lies anymore; he couldn't hurt her anymore. He would tell her and then he would quit. They would find a way to circumvent his obligation; together. _

_He was probably not concentrating nearly as much as he should have been; he was lucky that the roads were so quiet. Troy was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the sudden engine revving of the car that had been trailing him since he left the airport. He didn't find anything particular remarkable about the SUV pulling out behind him; he wasn't driving particularly quickly for the freeway. His eyes widened when he glanced to the side and noticed that the vehicle was making no attempt to overtake him; seemingly content with driving alongside him – mere inches separating the two cars. _

_What happened next occurred so suddenly that Troy had no chance to react. Two fleeting thoughts passed through his mind as his car was rammed off the road and began to tumble down the overgrown slope: the symmetry with the only other car crash that he had ever been in and Gabriella. _

_As everything faded to black, Troy could only be thankful that nobody that he loved was lying beside him this time. _

* * *

Sighing, Gabriella slowly began to pack away her things; she was going to be home early so that she could be there when Troy got in. He had sounded so distraught that he wouldn't be able to be there the night earlier and it made her feel unbelievably guilty: it was her fault that they had felt it necessary to make time for their relationship; it was her fault that their relationship was breaking apart at the seams.

She froze when the computer in the corner of the room began to beep. In the time that it took her to cross the room, Gabriella's heart had forced its way through her ribcage and travelled an apprehensive path to the base of her throat. She could hardly breathe as she stared at the screen confirming her suspicions about the cause of the alarm.

She hadn't looked at the file since her conversation with Taylor on her hen night. She had almost entirely forgotten her previous obsession with her parents' killer: too caught up in the simultaneously bliss- and anguish-filled marriage. The alarm disturbing the peace of her office brought all of these attempts to move on crashing to the ground.

The system had found him.

Gabriella scrolled through the information on the screen; frowning at the absolute simplicity with which he had made himself known again. He had been caught on an airport security camera; flagged up as he had set off the metal detectors. Typing frantically, Gabriella tracked his movements; hacking into the airport's security network and traffic camera systems to follow him as he climbed into a car and set off down the freeway towards Manhattan.

His movements were unexceptional. Gabriella was baffled: after all of this time, why had he risked being found for something so..boring…? But then he made his move, forcing another vehicle off the road. The camera remained stationery as Johnson climbed out of his car to watch the Mercedes roll down the hill and come to a deathly halt at its base. Satisfied with his efforts, he turned around to look directly at the camera. Gabriella was thankful that she couldn't see the expression on his face; she was shaken enough as it was.

She gasped as he raised his arm; deliberately pointing in the camera's direction and then to the vehicle lolling at the foot of the wild slope.

He knew that she was watching.

Perplexed, Gabriella wound the footage backwards; her breath catching in her throat as she looked at the target vehicle more closely – her eyes coming to rest on the number plate as the first step of her investigation. It was Troy's car.

There was no time for any more thought.

Everything faded to black.


	10. Strands

**A/N: Again, thank you all for the reviews. A lot happens in this chapter: hope you enjoy!**

**Also to the readers of Faling Into You: we're now up to chapter 52; the link is in my profile, as always!**

Gabriella's voice was dissonantly controlled; despite the shaking of her hands and the inexpressible fear in her eyes. "I don't care how you do it, or how long it takes. Not a single one of you leaves this room until you can tell me where the hell he has been; and where he's going. Just get me an hour alone with him."

Turning on her heel, she only managed to take three steps before a throat-ripping sob wracked her body. She slammed her fist desperately against the closed doors of the elevator; needing to get out of there as soon as possible. She had to get to the hospital. She couldn't let him think that he was alone. Her balled hand was stilled before it was able to collide with more force against the door. Gabriella only needed to take on look at the dark hand resting on her wrist before she began to openly weep; falling into the side of her friend.

"What have I done, Taylor?" she cried, her body convulsing.

Her friend was silent; there was no response that could ever hope to comfort her. "Come on, I'll drive."

* * *

"_I don't want Gabi to get caught up in this…" Her silken voice caressed the walls of the house; it was the first time that they had been alone in it for a while. _

"_She won't."_

_Ana rested her head on her husband's shoulder. It was an affectionate act that had grown almost entirely absent from their relationship: the nature of their business cultured hardened attitudes. "I want our lives back, Seb," she sighed. "For the first time in…I don't remember how long, I had a real conversation with our daughter; I helped her get ready to go out. She's so clever and wonderful – even though we aren't here enough. Are we really going to be able to protect her from this indefinitely?"_

"_Of course."_

_It was what he had to believe._

"_I don't want her to get involved in the company. She's too good for it."_

"_We can protect her in other ways," Sebastian assured his wife; even if his own doubts to the contrary had been increasingly playing on his mind. Their 'conflict' with Alex Johnson was becoming more dangerous and unavoidable than he was willing to let his wife know; his own lack of control had exacerbated the once business feud and he feared the consequences. "I promise that we will finish this, soon."_

_Ana simply nodded: she didn't believe him. It was something that he had been saying since they had first married 20 years ago; there was no chance of it happening now._

_As the pair went to sleep that evening – both wrapped in worries about the future; a future that was more potentially fatal for one than the other- they were oblivious to the figure lurking in the shadows. They were oblivious to petrol pouring through the letter box. They were oblivious to the flames._

_At precisely 2 am the next morning, Gabriella's movie marathon with her friends was interrupted by the frantic hammering of her Godfather on the front door._

_Her life was never the same again._

* * *

A smirk contorted his lips as he reclined in the armchair of his office, watching the tape of the crash over and over again. It was hard for him to identify a favourite memory. He had quite enjoyed watching the Montez household go up in flames; the sight of two of his greatest nemeses clawing at the windows before sinking to the floor was nothing short of fulfilling. At the time it had been marred by the fact that their fifteen year-old daughter had been out of the house, though: his revenge hadn't been as sadistic as he had initially planned. The event had also put him at a fair amount of risk, too. He had never expected that their extermination would cause such a furore within the company. He'd had to change his identity and lie low for far too long.

Johnson grimaced. No, perhaps, the Montez double murder hadn't been his favourite.

* * *

_"__So what's this one called?" Dan teased his brother mercilessly, smirking at the red hue __tinting his cheeks._

_"__Would you stop making out like I'm some sort of man-whore?" Troy requested – half irritated, half amused. "This is our fifth date."_

_"__Wow. I'm proud of you man." He rolled his eyes. "And I'm not trying to call you a whore. I'm reminding you how much of a girl you've been since you broke up with Lucy. You can't get over her – it makes me feel ill."_

_"__I'm going to ignore you and carry on driving."_

_"__Good, I'll carry on talking then. Dude, she wasn't even that hot. Sure, she was nice. But she was one girl. You have them falling all over you. Be a man and get laid…a lot."_

_"__Dan!" Troy spared a glance at him. "I am so going to push you off the top of the ferris wheel when we get to the fair…"_

_"__As if!" Dan scoffed. "My brother, Troy Bolton, incapable of squashing a fly, might I add, is threatening to cause another harm…don't make me laugh."_

___Troy gulped. He hadn't shared his career choice with his brother. "Whatever."_

_"__Okay, okay, joking aside, big bro…This Lucy thing has got to stop. Stop comparing every single girl to her; you won't find another Lucy. You need someone else."_

___Smiling tightly, Troy nodded his head. "I know, I know. I just need a break from…" he paused, frowning, when he noticed the car behind them approaching a little bit too quickly for his liking – CIA training may have had some benefits but it compounded paranoia. "What the fuck is that dude doing?" Troy questioned as he instinctively sped up._

___His eyes widened as another car came hurtling around the corner; slamming into the passenger side of his Ford. For a moment time stopped. Troy remembered seeing the startled, pained expression of his brother. Almost instantaneously, the car began to roll. As __their vehicle lay crushed at the bottom of the foothill, all that Troy could think about was the silence of his brother. _

___His life would never be the same again._

* * *

Johnson's face was once again twisted by his sadistic grin. The Bolton attempt had definitely been gratifying. It had been a new type of revenge that had proved to provide so much more pleasure. At first he had been livid that Troy had survived. Seeing his emotional destruction, though; seeing him fall off the righteous government path and go rogue had generated a longer-lasting satisfaction: Troy would have to live with the mistake that he had made getting involved with Johnson forever.

Still, he ran his finger around the rim of his wineglass as he contemplated; Bolton's unfortunate survival had forced him under the radar again. Hiding two different identities had been tiresome and Johnson had grown bored: he was getting old and less easily able to seek base pleasures than he had been. It was just luck that his quest for a quiet retirement would also be his last game. And what a game it would be.

The discovery that Montez and Bolton, the two obstacles standing in the way of his retirement, were involved – completely unaware of the other's profession- definitely had been a good day.

Johson rewound the tape of Bolton's (second) crash one last time. He had a feeling that disposing of Bolton and Montez would easily become his favourite memory.

* * *

Six broken ribs, five agonizing hours of surgery, one punctured lung, another broken arm: all leaving one distraught wife in their wake.

It didn't matter that Gabriella hadn't slept for almost twenty-four hours; she refused to let her eyelids droop. She was convinced that if she closed them for even the smallest of seconds she would awake and he wouldn't be there.

There were thirty-seven scratches blighting his normally flawless features; or at least that was her best guess: it was sometimes impossible to tell where one ended and another began. In the four hours since he had been wheeled out of surgery, Gabriella had counted the blemishes upon his skin over and over again, and each tally seemed to inflict a similar wound upon her own heart; clawing at the surface of the muscle and etching an indelible scar upon it in guilt's scorching ink. She was responsible for each and every broken bone and shredded piece of skin. It was Gabriella's fault and Gabriella's fault alone; there was no more inescapable and horrifying truth. It wasn't merely that any meaning in her life would have been obliterated had he died, but that she alone would have deprived him of the life that he deserved to lead; she alone would have cost the world a man like him.

Gabriella tried once again to repress the need to blink: she didn't want to miss even the slightest sign that his condition was improving – or deteriorating. At the reoccurrence of that thought, it was as if her prayers had been answered and Troy's eyelids began to flutter. His breathing became raspier, this newly toxic air grating at his throat as it fought to escape. An incomprehensible range of emotion whirled over the surface of his eyes in those first few seconds after the couple's eyes locked; the sentiments swirled around his iris in a confused, endless cycle.

Fear

Relief

Guilt

Love

This was it, Gabriella thought. This would be the last time that she would ever see such a feeling reflected in his eyes.

"Gabi," he whispered hoarsely; his eyes reaching out to her as his arms couldn't. Only recently dried tears stabbed at the corners of Gabriella's eyes upon seeing the pain in his face and hearing his broken voice.

"I…need…" he continued, struggling against the damage that was constraining his every action.

"Shhh," Gabriella soothed, unconsciously repressing the truth that was bubbling in her throat: his health had to be her first priority. She ran her fingers over his clammy forehead and the broken skin of his cheeks. "Don't try to speak," she scolded as she reached over to the bedside table to fetch a glass of water. Gabriella eased the straw between Troy's lips; wincing at the effort and discomfort with which the cool liquid was travelling down his throat. Informing her with his eyes that his thirst had been quenched, Troy regarded his wife with his heart pounding in his chest. She looked so exhausted and utterly wretched; it pained him to know that he was once again the cause. Even so, there was a trace of something else casting its shadow over her features – something dark and angry. Troy didn't get chance to analyse the fleeting observation, however: he had more pressing matters at hand.

"Are you okay?" he managed to ask; this time with slightly more ease.

Gabriella widened her eyes incredulously. "Am I okay?" she squeaked questioningly. "You almost died in a crash and you want to know if…" Her sentence trailed off into nothingness as she contemplated the extent to which that question had proved precisely how much better he was than her.

"I mean…" Troy started again before coughing painfully. "You're safe?" He was so weary; each word was costing him an incredible amount of energy. His eyes were heavy but he forced them upon the angelic face peering down at him.

"Safe?" She repeated, perplexed. What on Earth could he mean by that? He was probably confused Humoring him, Gabriella shook her head somewhat amused. "Of course I'm fine. It's you that we should be worrying about." She could see his eyes growing steadily heavier and a paralyzing cold swept from her extremities to her heart: she was running out of chances to tell him and make him believe in what they had. "I love you," she sniffed; her voice filled with unfathomable emotion. She was livid with herself when she began to weep in front of him: How dare she make this about herself.

"Hey," Troy pacified; wishing that he had the strength to take her into his arms. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Unless she wants you to," his derisive conscience sneered at him.

He was going to tell her, he really was. Troy was just so tired, though. He would tell her when he woke up next time. He had to: she didn't deserve this. "I love you, Gabriella – more than anything. Never doubt that." The unbridled emotion of his words was emphasized further by Troy's almost defeated acceptance of the fact that it would be one of the last – if not the last- chances he got to tell her. His final confession finished Troy off, and his eyes fell decisively closed as the last words left his mouth.

Gabriella nodded her head; trying to memorise everything about the way his eyes had looked and his voice had sounded as he spoke. "Get some rest, sweetheart," she encouraged whilst stroking her fingertips over his eyelids and through his hair. Troy simply made a noise of whimpering agreement in the back of his throat before his breathing evened. Leaning down, Gabriella placed a tentative kiss against his cold and chapped lips. It wasn't a kiss of promise, but a symbol of the end.

* * *

The three men walked morosely down the sterile corridor of the hospital; an overbearing sense of déjà-vu weighing upon every step that they took. They were once again lucky that their best friend had managed to escape Death's predatory clutches.

Stopping outside the room that they had been directed to, Chad was about to knock on the ajar door when he took notice of the despairing wife leaning down to brush a kiss against her husband's lips. Judging by the tear tracks casting an eerie glow over her cheeks, they needed a minute alone.

* * *

As Gabriella lifted her head again it felt as if this last kiss had snatched the final breath from her body. Her heart was gripped in the petrifyingly cold snare of lost Love. She couldn't help but cry at the thought of what was to come in the next few hours.

"I swear, Troy" she sobbed into the silent room. "I love you more than anything. I will never forgive myself for what he has done to you."

* * *

Even Jason turned to his friends with a confused frown on his face at the overheard confession. None of the three men were able to comment before the withered voice continued.

"I will make Johnson pay for what he has done to you. And then I'm done. I will spend the rest of my life trying to convince you that I want to be how I am when I'm with you. You make me, Troy," she gasped. Her words were becoming breathier as her body conceded control to her tears.

The eavesdropping men were oblivious to the rapidly approaching sound of heels slapping against linoleum flooring.

"I might have been just an assassin when I met you. But I can be more, I know I can. I need you." Finally admitting defeat, Gabriella allowed her head to sink to the pillow next to Troy's and her body slipped into a drained sleep.

Outside of the room, Chad, Zeke and Jason were staring at each other with gaping mouths. Chad didn't get the opportunity to shuffle the thoughts ricocheting off the walls of his mind and verbally express them: somebody else got there first.

"Shit," Taylor exclaimed stunned; drawing the men's attentions to her.

Realisation once again dawned in all of their eyes.

"Holy shit."

It was an aptly emphasized and harmonized response to the realization.


	11. Dénouement

**A/N: First things first: Thank you so, so much for all of the reviews. Last chapter hit the 100 review mark which is a lot more than I had expected for this fairly random story. As I've mentioned before, I have never written anything with a proper story-line before so this has been a very challenging but rewarding journey for me; one that is made even more so incredible by your comments. I'm estimating that there will be no more than 5 chapters after this; it all depends on how I finally decide to divide up my chapters. Special author's mention to some of my most detailed and encouraging reviewers: Alexia (for nagging :P ), Dani, Rach and babyd (from MiM)!  
**

**This is quite a big one plot wise and I hope it flows okay!**

Silence reigned; the blank, stark white of the corridor merely served as a projection screen for the confusion, shock and fear of the people lining it.

Chad was the first to speak again; his eyes wide as he regarded Taylor. He whipped his head to peer through the door at Gabriella before it snapped back to the woman standing before him. "So she...and he...so they're both...?" He laughed: how was such a coincidence possible? His raised features dropped again as another, all the more sinister and distasteful possibility forced its way to the forefront of his thought processes. "Unless she...and that's why they...and he..."

His nonsensical jabbering was driving Taylor insane. She needed to analytically and objectively process the possible fallout of and solutions to the fact that Gabriella's cover had been blown. She did not need - she couldn't cope with - this random mumbling of words. She sighed in relief when Chad appeared to have stopped talking, but when she raised her bashful and anxious face from the floor, she realised that he wasn't quite finished trying to piece everything together. If she had thought that his eyes had been wide before, they were now almost popping from their sockets and his finger was pointed at her almost accusingly. "And you..." He shook his head, and anger seeped into his posture.

"Chad, just wait a second," she asked calmly; finding the fact that she had no idea what he was thinking quite terrifying. "Can we please stop talking in pronouns for a second and..." She floundered momentarily, thinking that whatever she said next would inevitably be insufficient. "...talk about this?"

"You and her..." He took a step forward and Taylor would later admit that she had found this single action more intimidating than anything that she had ever experienced before: human emotion could be a very, very dangerous thing indeed.

"Yes, Gabriella and I are..." she caught herself before she said anymore. "Listen, this isn't the place to discuss this. And we really aren't the most important people in this situation anyway..."

Chad blinked and counted to ten before speaking coolly. "You don't get to make that decision. The way I see it, there are two possibilities here: either this whole thing is a ridiculous coincidence, or you and Gabriella have been playing Troy. You have thirty seconds to explain what the hell is going on. Go..."

This time it was Taylor's turn to frown in confusion. "Coincidence? Playing Troy? Why would...what would?" Her eyes widened. "You mean that..." she turned to look at the sleeping Troy and Gabriella. Her mind was whirring almost out of control. "Troy is...and Gabriella is..."

"You didn't know about Troy?" Chad asked tentatively; more or less convinced by the look on the woman's face that she too was only just realising the true state of affairs.

"That Troy is...a..."

"Hired assassin? Like Gabriella?" Zeke supplied.

"Yeah," Taylor answered slowly. "Wow."

Quiet contemplation threaded the strands of their friends' different and yet similar situations together whilst the men and Taylor stood regarding each other cautiously; none of them knowing how to move on from these new admissions.

Shaking his head, Chad tried to banish the headache that was seizing his mind in an ice-cold grip. "So let me get this straight: Troy and Gabriella are both..." he glanced around them and lowered his voice before continuing, "assassins. They don't know that the other is..."

"Some coincidence, huh?" Taylor added when Chad seemed to have run out of the right words to try and grasp the situation.

Jason, who had been entirely quiet until that point, spoke up softly. "How the heck do we move forward now?" he asked. "I mean, do well tell them ourselves? Do we let them figure it out on their own and pretend we don't know?" He paused. "I just don't feel like it's our place to march in there and say, 'hey buddy, you know that thing you've been lying to your wife about? Well she's been lying about the same thing, ain't that ironic?"

"He's right," Taylor added in a hushed tone. "We can't just march in there and throw this massive curveball to their relationship..."

"I think we're just going to have to give them a push in the right direction," Chad admitted dejectedly. "There are enough lies floating around these two already; let's not add to it..."

The other three nodded in agreement.

In a rare moment of weakness, Taylor's small voice could barely be heard above the silence. "They'll be okay, right?"

She didn't receive an answer.

* * *

The band of four waited patiently outside of Troy's hospital room for two hours until its occupants finally began to stir. They watched the tender looks and caresses that the agonised couple shared before forcing themselves to make a move. Taking a deep breath, Chad knocked resolutely on the door and stepped into the room; the others following behind him with equally grim expressions.

At first, Troy had attempted to smile at his friends: mistaking their pursed lips and furrowed brows as signs of concern rather than of nervousness and trepidation. As Chad cleared his throat, however, and began to try and stuff his hands as deeply into his pockets as possible - a nervous tick that had plagued him since his teenage years - Troy knew that something even more serious was wrong.

Chad exhaled deeply and spoke. "I don't know how to say this so I'm just going to come out with it. You two have something you need to talk about. That thing that you haven't told Gabi about, Troy..." He switched his gaze to Gabriella. "And that thing that you need to tell Troy about Gabi, you need to discuss it." He gestured to the four of them. "We all know about everything..." At the looks of confusion and absolute fear on his friends' faces as they desperately fought to avoid looking at their spouse, even though their shaking hands remained connected, Chad cleared his throat again. "We're going to leave and let you sort this out. Just know," he sighed, not wanting to say too much and step on anyone's toes. "I think that things might turn out better than you'd expected..."

With that, he turned on his heels and practically scurried from the room; the others hot on his spurs. It was almost as if any air of comfort and security was sucked from the room with their absence. Troy and Gabriella continued to stare anywhere but at each other: Gabriella's eyes were focussed on the creases in the bed linen that she was running her fingers over; Troy's gaze was on the bare wall directly opposite him. Slowly, simultaneously, they raised their eyes until in one moment of utter vulnerability they allowed their gazes to meet. Neither had ever felt more petrified in their life.

Throats seized up; words battled to escape, hearts fought to delay the truth.

"I'm an assassin." Their voices simultaneously coated the same words; leaving their impact to hang messily in the air.

It took a moment for them to register that the other had mumbled the exact same words; and as realisation dawned, their eyes met again. Their bodies seemed to repel each other instinctively as a result of the confession: their hands separated and Gabriella's chair shot backwards. She stood; her hand over her mouth and her face drained of any colour.

There was no relief in their admission.

There was no impassioned pleading for the other to understand.

There was just emptiness and confusion.

And there was disappointment.

Gabriella couldn't comprehend the words that had spilled from her husband's mouth, even though she understood precisely the meaning of the identical words that she herself had disgorged. He was supposed to be her hero. He was supposed to save her. She needed him to be better than her. Yet, he wasn't any of those things: he was exactly the same as her. This belated truth was too raw to create compassion and understanding. Looking at Troy, seeing him for what he really was, Gabriella could imagine - in fact, she could read it in his eyes- precisely how he would now be viewing her. It was a vicious, unbreakable circle of disappointment and shame and sorrow and there was only one thing that Gabriella could do to break free.

She ran.

With the gesture, Troy's own heart was ripped brutally from his chest - dragged frantically down the corridor behind her by the cord inexorably connecting it to her own. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't process the fact that his one salvation and wholly perfect wife could be as tragically, violently flawed as he was.

His entire body was overpowered by the unstoppable barrage of tears and sobs took hold of his body and flooded his mind so that he was incapable of further thought.

She was gone. It was over. He had nothing.

* * *

Time ticked by slowly; like it has the tendency to do when moving into the future is the one thing that you want to prevent by any means possible.

It felt like hours had passed when Chad re-entered the room; Troy had no idea how long it had actually been. Time didn't seem to have any significance when hours/minutes/seconds weren't attached to some sort of Gabriella-related activity: 35 minutes until I see her again; thirty seconds since she last smiled; an hour watching her sleep. What else did time measure that was of any importance?

Chad made small talk; he could see the redness of his friend's eyes and could tell from the hoarseness of his voice that he had been crying. Upon entering the room, he had placed a comforting arm on his friend's shoulder and had attempted to offer him words of comfort, but Troy's eyes had merely glazed over and assumed the detached shield that made Chad's blood run cold and cast him back to a time when he thought that he had lost his best friend to grief forever. Chad had no idea what to do: he feared that this time they wouldn't be able to bring Troy back. And so Chad hadn't even tried to convince his friend that things would be okay: he knew that it would have no effect. He just tried to keep Troy with him; talking; breathing. He needed to remind Troy to live.

So he talked about the one thing that he knew would get a response out of "closed-down" Troy: work. He told him how they had checked the footage of the crash and found out that Johnson was responsible. He informed him of the measures that they were taking to track him and the progress that they had made.

"I mean, I think we should probably plan this carefully...bide our time until we know that this can be finished properly and quickly."

Troy flinched. "I don't want quick and efficient: I want painful and personal, Chad."

His friend hesitated. "Troy, you know that things go wrong when they get personal." He hadn't meant the statement to have a double meaning.

"I don't care." His voice was cold and almost petulant. "What was it you were saying about thinking he would be in Monaco?"

Any plan that Chad had to try and change the subject was completely quashed by the look in his friend's eye. "We THINK- we aren't in any way certain and have no proper scheduling of his time or activities or security or..."

"Chad..." Troy mumbled through gritted teeth. He needed to make Johnson pay: he had cost him more than a few broken bones.

"We think that he will be in Monaco in a month. There is one slightly tangible paper trail and a possible call interception from a conversation between his driver and a hotel. But it's only a month, Troy..."

"Book us flights. Set us up there...at least a week in advance..."

"Dude, you aren't going to be anything like fully fit..."

"Just do it, Chad."

The next voice to argue against him was the last one that he had expected to hear.

"If you think there is any way that you are jetting off half way around the world only four weeks into recovery from a major car-crash, you've got another thing coming..."

Troy's eyes widened in shock and his heart leapt when his gaze fell upon the speaker. Stood in the open doorway of his hospital room, his wife was staring at him in determination; her hands on her hips and the darkness of her eyes telling him that this was not a matter to be discussed.

"Gabi," Troy muttered half in awe, half resembling a chastised child.

Gabriella's voice and gaze softened. "I'm sorry for running out on you," she whispered; the words tickling his ears and re-warming his heart.

"It's okay," he responded equally quietly.

As quietly as he could, Chad stood up and tried to slip passed Gabriella. "I'll leave you two to it..."

He had almost left the room before Gabriella managed to draw her eyes away from Troy. "I heard what you were saying about Johnson...I think your team and my team are going to have to work together on this one," she informed him and Troy was amazed at the professionalism and authority of her tone.

"Gabi," he mumbled. "This isn't your battle to fight..."

She just smiled. "Yeah, yeah it is. It was before and it is even more so now. We've got a lot to talk about."


	12. Revelations

Silence reigned for the next few moments; awkwardly stretching the space separating the two bodies whilst they worked out what to say next. Gabriella still hadn't moved from her position by the door and any movement further into the room - further towards him- seemed almost presumptious, almost too familiar to her; as ridiculous as it seemed. Within a period of a few hours barely anything about their relationship remained familiar. Their love was still a binding factor between them, but it had no context: neither knew who the other was or how they were to be handled; at least that was what they thought.

This time it was Troy who made the strenuous first move; opening himself to attack. "I don't understand," he sighed in consternation. "You know about Johnson?"

Gabriella nodded grimly. "Yeah. I've been trying to track him down for the last ... years. He..." she paused in her speech and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes as she prepared herself to be honest with him about something fundamental in her life for the first time. "My parents didn't die in a car-crash: he killed them."

Troy's eyes widened and his heart convulsed at the complete desolation of her tone. He wanted to reach out to her and offer comfort, but he was not only prevented by his restricted physical movement, but by the invisible wall that had sprung up with the revelation of earlier that evening. It was not words of comfort that left his mouth next, but a question: "Why?"

Agitated and ruined, Gabriella ran her hands over her face tiredly. "I have no idea where to begin," she admitted. Steeling herself, Gabriella risked a look across at him and was once again struck by how weak he looked. "You know, maybe we should leave this for another day." She laughed bitterly. "You're barely out of surgery and this…" she gestured between them vaguely. "This turmoil can't be good for you."

Troy took a deep breath and shrugged despondently. "You're good for me," he said quietly. "I know that. I…We need to talk about this. Now." His voice was firm; despite the awkwardness of the atmosphere, he instinctively knew that she needed him to steer her. His eyes fell on the empty chair a few feet from his bed in a signal to her that she could and should take a seat; and she accepted his silent invitation.

Once seated, Gabriella's eyes darted between him and the floor as she deliberated what to say next. "I was fifteen. I'd gone to the cinema with a friend and two boys; I was so excited because Johnny Green had asked if I wanted to go and he was really cute." As she spoke, her eyes remained trained on the hem of her skirt as she picked at the threads. "I stayed over at my friends afterwards. And then really early in the morning, her parents came to wake me up: my Godfather had turned up and…" She visibly shivered as she recalled the moment. "He was stood at the bottom of the stairs waiting for me. His eyes were so red and he was just pale. Every time I think of grief and fear, I think about how he looked that night. I think part of me knew, as soon as I saw him, what had happened." Hands now shaking too much for her to continue to toy with the material of her skirt, Gabriella clasped them together firmly. She had never told anybody about how she had felt that night. "There had been a fire at our house. It trapped them and they died and…" Her voice failed her as she tried to continue and despite the circumstances and the confusion, Troy couldn't help but reach out to her. He winced as he rolled over slightly so that he was able to brush his hands against her shoulder, but the pain was irrelevant to him. At his touch, Gabriella raised her head and it only took one look into his eyes before she was in his arms. After the initial wave of retrospective grief subsided, Gabriella looked up again and was instantly comforted by the understanding in her husband's eyes; one that told her that she didn't need to continue until she was ready. Gabriella sniffed and blinked the remaining tears from her eyes. "I had never suspected what they did. I knew that they worked together, with my Godfather, and that they worked long hours; but as a young teenager I just never thought to question it. After they died, I moved in with my Uncle Tony. I wasn't dealing well…I just shut down and wasn't eating and…I think that he was scared what would happen if he left me alone. So he started taking me to the company with him. We practically lived there. I don't even really remember when I realized what was really going on. He'd ask me to file things and I suppose little by little I started to get an idea of the sort of things that went down. I think I was still so numb that it didn't really strike a chord, you know?" She shrugged and sighed. "I guess things all came to a head one day when I was in his office. There was an open file on his desk and I was just tidying. I started to read and saw my parent's names. I couldn't stop reading: it was listing all of these cases that my Dad had worked, about his run-ins with Johnson. And then it mentioned the fire. I lost it. I don't even really remember what happened but it ended with my Uncle telling me everything. The company was an undercover agency: espionage and assassination. My parents had had this ongoing feud with Johnson and they'd lost." She gazed at him imploringly. "I'm not a monster. I know that what I do," she paused, "that what we do makes us bad people, but…I…It was never an intentional decision I made. I just fell into it. I wanted to get justice for my parents, and I was just there…surrounded by the business and I just fell into it. It was something that gave me some sort of adrenalin rush and…working numbed the pain and made me forget." The tears fell again as she desperately gulped in air. "I'm not a monster. I'm still me. Please don't hate me…." She begged, clutching his gown.

Troy didn't say anything; his mind seemed to be taking an unnecessary amount of time to process everything that she had said. It was incomprehensible that this back-story could be attached to the woman that he had grown to admire so much. Yet, it didn't make him despise or averse to her; rather it made his admiration for her grow. He cursed how long it had taken for him to respond to her pleas, and pulled her tight against him, tucking her head underneath his chin as he whispered soothing words into her hair. "I could never, ever hate you. Don't you ever think that," he reminded her as he massaged the back of her neck: it had taken a while, but the familiarity of their interaction was returning. "I understand, Gabi," he promised her shaking figure. "I was in the CIA when Dan was killed. I had been assigned to this case involving Johnson and, well, things had started to get involved. We were tracking him for months and then one day I was driving to Coney Island with my brother and the car was rammed off the road, like yesterday." His voice was quiet and deliberate as he recounted the story; despite having heard her own story and seeing the lies that she had told him unravel, and knowing that it didn't diminish his love or desire to be with her in the slightest, he couldn't help but fear that his own confessions would repel her. "When I woke up and they told me that Dan had died, and that Johnson was responsible," he sighed and tried to steady his shaking voice. "I went completely off the rails: I was driven by this need for revenge and I couldn't think of anything else. At first, they wouldn't reinstate my field rating, and then I was suspended. I never went back," Troy admitted. "I sat at home trying to find him for myself and as a means to get by, I took on dirty jobs…it kept building until the dirty jobs became what I did and searching for the bastard became a lower priority." He paused to observe the woman in his arms: she had stopped shaking and was still clutching on to his hospital gown, but she barely displayed any reaction to what he had told her. It petrified him. "Gabriella," he urged; his voice thick with emotion. "Can you please say something?"

She didn't speak, but she did lift her head from where it was nested underneath his chin. Gabriella looked at him, truly looked at him, and stroked a thumb over the battered contours of his face. Their chests felt weighed down by the magnitude of the confessions that they had just shared, and Gabriella tried to force words up her throat and comfort him: she was fighting a losing battle. Just staring at each other, the couple was overwhelmed by how overpowering emotions evoked by the knowledge that for the first time they were looking at each other without the deceptive screen of their lies obstructing the truth. They felt both utterly exposed and yet empowered.

It didn't matter that Troy wasn't the perfect, flawless, uncomplicated person that Gabriella had always thought that she needed to be. The complicity of their emotions and the depth of their connection were simply so much stronger than either could have imagined would ever be possible.

Troy opened his mouth to plea with her to accept him, but he didn't manage to expel a single word before her own awe-inspired voice filled the void between their distant and entwined bodies. "I don't care," she whispered. "I thought that I would, but I don't. You could never be a monster. I understand, I know," she tried to convinced him with her eyes. "And I know that all that is important is how you make me feel." She smiled shyly. "You make me feel like a normal, better person. You make me feel like the sort of person that I want to be."

Troy nodded eagerly, causing his wife to giggle softly. "You reminded me how to properly live. You reminded me that I could escape from this life. You made me want to do it. That's what I was going to say before the crash, Gabi." He shifted his body and grasped her hands in his. "I want out. I want us to finish things with Johnson, and I want us to start over again. You're all that's important to me."

Tears pricked at the corners of Gabriella's eyes again: not because she was disappointed or disgusted or shocked by the revelations of the past hour, but because her fairytale was finally coming true.


	13. Unraveling

"I still don't get why we can't just go to Monaco," Troy complained from his position lounged on the settee in his and Gabriella's living room.

Looking up at her husband from the floor by his feet, Gabriella rolled her eyes. "And leave you here?"

"Hell no," Troy began to protest. "There is absolutely no way that I am sitting here doing nothing whist you're all..."

"That's why we're not going." Gabriella interrupted with authority, effectively cutting off any further attempts of her husband to plead his case. "You are in no way fit to put yourself in a position of danger: it's not good for you or the mission."

Troy sighed. "Seriously, Gabriella, this is nothing. I've been out in the field with worse."

Raising her eyebrows, Gabriella sent Chad, Zeke and Jason, who were sat opposite her, an unimpressed look. "Not under my watch. Now where were we?" She picked up one of the files in front of her and began scouring it for more information. Troy knew that he should have felt embarrassed that he had been completely shot-down by his wife in front of a room full of people, but he couldn't help but smile at how she was acting. This authoritative, professional side of her was something that he had never really seen before, and he had to say that he admired it. It was evident that she ran a tight ship and he could now see why her team had such a preeminent reputation; even if he had only just found out that said team belonged to her. His stomach rumbled on Troy wrinkled his nose in distaste at the plate of steamed vegetables and brown rice that had been laid on the table beside him; he would have much rather eaten the Chinese that his friends were tucking into on the other side of the room.

"Gabi," he began, lowering his voice in a way that he knew that she normally found hard to resist. She shivered as he began to massage the back of her neck and leaned into his touch. "Baby," he repeated. "Are you sure that I can't just eat what the others are having?"

Gabriella rolled her eyes and attempted to ignore the part of her brain that was telling her to do whatever Troy wanted when he spoke to her like that. "What's wrong with what we're eating?" she teased, gesturing at her own half-eaten plate.

"It smells so good, though," Troy persisted as he worked at the kinks in her neck.

"No, Troy," Gabriella stated firmly. "The Doctor said that..."

She was cut off when Taylor leapt out of her seat. "I've got it!" She exclaimed. "Gabi, you remember the Vasilivej job, right?"

"You did the Vasilivej job?" Chad asked incredulously in response, looking at Gabriella in awe. "That was huge. It was...."

"I know right?" Taylor replied proudly. "She was amazing..."

As Taylor and the guys got into a heated discussion about how the particular mission had gone down, Troy found himself stiffening and retracting his hand from Gabriella's neck. Gabriella herself was staring somewhat ashamedly at the carpet at her feet; she felt awkward that Troy was hearing the gruesome details of her professional life. The cold-hearted and cunning manner in which she had ended this particular person's life was not something that she had ever wanted

him to be privy to and, by his reaction, it seemed that he neither wanted to know about it.

The truth may have been out in the open.

Troy and Gabriella may have agreed that they wanted to move forwards together.

Full acceptance and understanding were, however, far from achieved.

- - - - - -

Hovering in the doorway of their rented, out-of-the-way apartment in Beirut Troy watched as his wife slid into the full-length, crimson evening gown. She was still exquisite. She still managed to take his breath away. The tension-sparked air between them had been growing increasingly fraught over the past month and a half: there were so many things that still needed clearing up;

so much uncertainty remained; so much longing seethed under the surface of every interaction.

Every word, every glance, every touch that they shared had the potential to combust.

It was terrifyingly exhilarating.

She could sense him lurking in the darkness of the corridor: Gabriella always had a sense for when he was watching her. Normally - before - she would have teasingly let him know that she was aware of his presence. Now, though, playful remarks didn't seem appropriate. Their interaction remained cautious, perhaps overly cautious, and polite and barely familiar. They were still learning how to handle each other again.

Becoming slightly perturbed with his observation of her, Gabriella cleared her throat. "If you want to say something, you should just say it," she urged quietly as she slipped on her earrings.

Sheepishly, Troy slid into the room until he was stood mere inches behind her. "I still don't know how comfortable I feel about this," he admitted; aching to reach out and touch her, to hold her and keep her with him and away from harm.

Gabriella couldn't help but smile softly at his concern. "It's okay Troy. It makes perfect sense for me to have this role in the mission. It's what he'll be expecting and you're still not 100% fit..."

Troy rolled his eyes and interrupted her. "Gabriella, I'm perfectly capable of doing my job. I'm more "fit" than I've been for the last few months."

"That may well be true," his wife conceded irritatedly, "but that doesn't mean that it's right. I would never let anyone in the field this soon after an accident like yours."

His nerves rippled at the slightly condescending tone of her voice: he really wasn't used to being told what to do. "You aren't my boss, Gabriella," he reminded her firmly - the irritation was obvious in his voice.

"Obviously," she replied, her own temper flaring. "But we both want this finish and I would rather that that happened soon and without either of us losing our lives in the process."

Troy sighed, dropping his hands to his side in frustration. "What? So you think I don't want that?"

Closing her eyes, Gabriella took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. "No, I know that you do." She paused, trying to measure her words; not wanting the mood between them to deteriorate further. "I can do my job though, Troy. You don't need to worry about me." Her voice had softened but retained the conviction of her previous statements.

"God damn it, Gabriella," Troy exhaled in agitation. "Of course I need to worry about you. You're my wife and we're baiting you and sending you into God knows what! Tell me, how am I supposed not to worry?"

Gabriella sighed and looked down at the floor. "This is my job, Troy. I've done it hundreds of times before...."

"Evidently. I'm sorry if it's taking me a while to get used to that fact, okay?" he responded petulantly, his arms folding together across his chest appropriately.

His wife felt herself react before she had chance to censor herself. "Don't talk to me like that!" she seethed as she turned around to look at him, her expression focused. "You can't be all high and mighty here - you lied too! You aren't the only one that has to adjust to this!" she cried, poking him in the chest.

Troy's expression was hardened: he felt frustrated, he felt conflicted; but most of all he was terrified of what might happen to his wife. It was an overwhelmingly potent cocktail of emotions and its fermentation had only one conclusion. Their impassioned, heated gazes met and before either of them had a chance to contemplate what was to happen next Troy was upon her, his hands tangled in her perfectly manicured hair and his lips abusing her own in a confirming, branding, pleading kiss.

Initially, Gabriella tried to resist but his grip on her was just too strong to push him away; his taste was just too intoxicating for her to continue to try. She dug her fingers into his mop of hair, tugging almost painfully at the strands as she yanked his body into closer contact with her own. Their kisses were desperate and angry and apologetic. Their hands grappled with clothing and imprinted their hold on skin. They needed this. They needed each other. They needed to feel.

The force of their contact propelled them forwards until Gabriella's back slammed against the wall; the only thing stopping her head from doing the same was Troy's last minute reaction as he reached up to cradle her head.

"We don't have time," Gabriella gasped out as Troy stroked a hand up the back of her leg that had wrapped itself around his thigh, assuming a firm hold on her backside as he lifted her so that her legs were caged around his waist.

"I don't care," he grunted in response as her fingers grappled with the clasp of his pants and she helped him wriggle loose of them.

"You're impossible," she conceded before pulling his head from where it was nipping and sucking determinedly on her neck and joining their mouths again.

- - - - - -

Something was wrong: she could feel it.

She had been mingling around the ballroom for the past hour. Gabriella hadn't seen a trace of Johnson or his security detail or of any tightened security whatsoever. They knew that he was in Beirut. They knew that he was booked in to see that evening's performance of 'la Traviata'.

The warning bell sounded.

The ballroom emptied.

He was still nowhere to be seen.

_i Chests heaving, the couple fought to regain control. Troy leaned his forehead on the wall beside Gabriella's shoulder as he tried to gain mastery over his breathing and his emotions. She shivered in his arms, bringing his face away from its resting place so that he could regard her. Their foreheads gravitated together and Troy smiled softly at her. "Hey," he whispered, rubbing his nose against hers._

_"Hey," her reply was just as tentative. "I'm sorry," she added; the word once again meaning so much more than the five letters could convey._

_"Me too." Troy gulped back the knot in his throat. "I'm just so scared....I'm so scared that I might lose you...." /i_

"Guys, he's not here," Gabriella whispered frantically into her mouth-piece. "Have you seen anything?"

"No..." Taylor asked in reply.

"Nothing on our exit either," Zeke replied, shrugging at Jason when his friend shook his head.

"I don't understand," Gabriella muttered. "We saw him come in. Where is he?"

"Just carry on as planned. He'll either approach you or try and get out at some point."

"Troy?" Gabriella asked, realizing how much she replied on his opinion.

"Chad's going back over the footage from when we saw him enter. Just keep an eye out, okay?" he said softly before frowning. He swore that the image on his screen had flickered.

_i "God, I love you," Troy sighed, cupping her face in his hands and pressing a firm kiss against her lips. _

"_I love you too, Troy," his wife repeated, placing her hand over his. "Don't ever doubt that." /i_

Troy's eyes were trained on the screen: waiting to see if it flickered again. His eyes widened when he realized that he had already seen this piece of footage. Then the screen momentarily wavered again. "Shit. Chad: the tape's been looped."

"What?" his friend asked, scrambling over to him.

"Look. He's looping the same ten minutes of tape monitoring this exit." Troy slammed his hand on the table. "How did we not notice?"

Standing up, Chad moved towards the back of their van. "I'll go and fix the feed. Let the others know and then I think we need to regroup on this side of the building."

_i "I know, baby,"Gabriella soothed, stroking his dampened hair. "It's not going to happen though: all I'm doing is smoking him out. You'll be watching the entire time."_

"_There are just so many things that could go wrong…" /i_

"Guys the video feed covering our side of the building's been looped. Chad's sorting it now, but you can bet he's somewhere over here."

"Right, I'm heading that way then," Gabriella resolved, placing her champagne flute down on one of the tables and slinking off towards the rear exit of the room.

"Gabi, just meet with Taylor first: we still don't know what he's playing at and I don't want you alone…"

"Troy," she sighed. "I'll have to double back on myself…"

"Please?" he asked, frowning when he heard a crash from outside of the truck. "Chad?" he called, "is everything okay back there?"

There was no response.

i "_Shhhh, don't think like that, Troy. It's just one more day. One more day and this will all be over and we can move on with our lives."_

"_Together?" He felt the need to remind her; he couldn't fathom carrying on with his life if she wasn't there with him._

"_Always. I can't do it without you." /i_

His heart seated in the pit of his stomach, hands clammy and pulse racing, Troy clambered out of the van and towards the back of the opera house where Chad was supposed to have been fixing the security-feed interception.

He found Chad.

But he wasn't alone.iHsWWhen Troy

His instinctive reaction to the body of his best friend slumped on the ground and lying in an ever widening puddle of blood cost him the valuable time that it would have taken to raise his own weapon.

A crooked smirk on his face, Johnson raised his gun and took aim. "It won't be third time lucky for you, Mr. Bolton. I never miss from this distance."

_i "I promise you, Gabi. You won't ever have to. I'm always going to be right here." He took their entwined hands and placed them over her heart. "Just like you're always with me, here…" He then repeated the gesture by laying her palm over his own steadily beating heart. Rubbing his nose against hers, Troy smiled sadly. "Come on, we need to go and finish this. The rest of our lives start tomorrow." /i_


	14. Death and all his Friends

An uttered threat.

One gun shot.

Silence.

It only took thirty seconds for Gabriella Montez' world to crumble: irrevocably, inconceivably. The sound of gunfire, the brutality of threats and violence and revenge had formed the backdrop of her entire adult life. Death had been her companion: she was its accomplice. There could be no accurate estimation of the number of lives she had taken, of the number of shots fired from her weapons of choice.

Death, fighting, gunfire were her life. They were habitual and she was numbed to them. She had been numbed to them. Yet all it took was one unmistakeable, tinny and harsh bang and the soundtrack of her adulthood morphed into something that assumed all of the sickeningly devastating sinister power for which it had been conceived.

She had disobeyed her husband: too desperate to be with him in his hour of need to care that she might be caught in a trap; alone as he had feared that she might be. It hadn't mattered, though. Still weaving through the seemingly endless and labyrinthal confusion of corridors in the old opera, Gabriella was still, now stationary, held an unbearable distance from him.

Her heart constricted. Her breaths snatched from her lungs by a snared grip, the invisible strand linking their souls and fates together grew barbs, tangling itself around her figure and tripping her. Her once ally, Death, watched as she stumbled; grinning manically as her broken figure lay sprawled on the ground.

Sobs wracked Gabriella's body, her earpiece falling from her convulsing form. As her future dimmed, she was oblivious to the triumphant form edging nearer to her. Everything had lost importance: life no longer had meaning.

She whispered Troy's name disbelievingly, her voice clinging to the syllables in an attempt to keep him alive, and as the shadow that had fallen over her frame finally drew her attention, there were no pleas for her own life, just a final apology to him.

Submissive and uncaring, Gabriella succumbed to darkness and her pain fell into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

- ---

Troy Bolton had never imagined that his final thought could ever be so serene. As he had stared Death straight in the face, his eyes fixed on the barrel pointed directly at his chest, he thought not of fear or of hopes and desires unfulfilled, but he thought of Gabriella. His mind flashed back to the moments that they had spent together, to the smiles and kisses and ineffable love that they had shared, and it settled on the image of her standing opposite them in the perfectly quaint church where they had eternalised their love. Her radiant figure in white staring at him with eyes so incomprehensibly filled with love had been all that it had taken to calm him, to convince him that his life had been worthwhile and perfect because he had loved her. Troy never got the chance to worry, desperately as he would have done, about how she would cope on her own, about who would love her and protect her in his absence. The chilling sound of a gunshot had stilled his thoughts and plunged him into a scarily tranquil abyss of nothingness; it had been quite literally petrifying.

Time seemed to have stopped dead and Troy stood suspended over the fragile threshold between life and death. Troy Bolton, despite his professional dalliances with Death, had never imagined that the final passing over would ever take so long.

Was the pain so great that he was numbed to it? Was he merely too shocked to truly appreciate the passing of time?

For Troy Bolton was still standing, despite the shot that had followed the eerily deterministic threat. His body slowly regaining warmth and rising back out of the oblivion into which he had been cast, he blinked dazedly when he realised that the threatening figure at whom he had been staring in anticipation earlier was no longer there. He shook his head at the familiar voice calling his name and his heart began to pound when he finally became aware that the fired shot had not been aimed at him.

Johnson was lying on the floor, cast aside and lifeless. Zeke and Jason were tending to his prone friend, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood.

It was over.

Confusedly, almost numbly, Troy ventured over to his friends and let out a relieved breath at the fluttering of Chad's eyelashes and the optimistic, determined expressions of his other two friends.

Sinking to the floor, his emotions too wide-ranging and profound to be processed, Troy muttered an awe-struck prayer into his mouthpiece. "It's over, Gabi: it's over." As silent tears of relief and joy and innumerable other significances cascaded down his cheeks, the hesitation in Gabriella's response grew ever more worrying. Seconds passed, and Troy became frantic, calling her name over and over, in increasing desperation and volume, into his mouthpiece. His searching cries for her response were joined by those of Taylor, and Troy's blood ran cold once again. "Why isn't Gabriella with you?" he asked frantically, jumping to his feet again and racing passed his friends to their surveillance van.

"She never came back; I think she was headed your way," Taylor responded, her eyes widened when she realised that Gabriella had never made it.

Troy ran his hands through his hair frenziedly as he stood in front of the multitude of surveillance screens that they had set up; he was at a loss as to where he should start looking for her. "Why isn't she here yet, Taylor?" His question hung in the air unanswered as he began rewinding the tape, ignorant of the fear that his brush with death should have evoked and only focussed on finding her.

Troy Bolton had never imagined that the thought of his own Death could seem so insignificant. He should have known that she was the only thing that could ever have mastery over him; it was inscribed into their fates the day that Gabriella Montez's destiny had crossed paths with his in Cairo.

His heart stilled, nailed to the muscled wall of his chest, Troy watched in agony when he saw the figure that had approached her as she lay defenceless and destroyed in the corridor mere minutes away from where he now stood. He watched as she looked up at her assailant, confusion followed by resignation and acceptance in her eyes as he felled her. He watched as the attacker carelessly flung her over his shoulder and carried her off.

The time that it took to watch that angle of security footage up until the present moment was agonisingly experienced. As past and present collided, Troy sped into action, instructing Taylor and Zeke to follow him to the room where he was sure that she was being held captive.

It was ironic, really – almost laughable- that the man who had meticulously planned Troy and Gabriella's downfall, the man that had sent them on paths of self-destruction and pain and enjoyed it, would allow for this final phase to be so easily won by his nemeses. He had chosen a weak collaborator with more concern for his own life than for the completion of the mission: it would always be the ruin of rivalries so intensely personal. By the time that Troy, Taylor and Zeke burst into the room, the anonymous accomplice was well aware of the fate that was approaching, but he was no more prepared for it.

Coming to, and chained to the radiator in the corner of the room, Gabriella's hope had been reawakened as she watched her kidnapper pace frantically in the corner of the room: something hadn't gone according to plan. She heard the sound of racing footsteps hurtling down the corridor and as her assailant reached for her gun and pointed it at her in desperation, her eyes were trained at the angelic figure in the door, and not at the potential cause of her death.

Gabriella Montez had never imagined that she could feel so serene at the moment before her potential death. All that she could see was Troy. All that she could feel and be moved by was the vision of the person who she never believed that she would see living again. His presence instilled her with hope and erased her fear.

A fierce rivalry that had begun over ten years ago between Gabriella's parents and Johnson, that had passed down to Gabriella and run parallel to Troy's own enmity with the villain, had come down to that one moment when Taylor pulled the trigger of her gun and made sure that victory, and survival, belonged to the couple.

All was still for a moment, nobody quite knowing what to do. Taylor and Zeke's heads turned and their own composure broke as the sound of Troy and Gabriella's weeping filled their ears. Troy flew across the room, collapsing onto the floor next to his wife and taking her tear stained face into his hands; their lips finding each other in a kiss that spoke of nothing but the future.

As their rivulets of tears intermingled, their fates ultimately, inextricably collided.

Their fairytale was no longer impossible.

**A/N: Wow. One more chapter left…. I hope that this one lived up to your expectations and was worth the wait. Can't wait to hear your comments and am once again so incredibly grateful for your support since I started this story! **


	15. Fairytale Accomplished

**A/N: So this is the final chapter *bites nails* So, so sorry that it took so long to get up: life has been hectic and I'm a bit of a perfectionist where this story is concerned! Thank you so very much to everybody that has persevered this story...and especially to my wonderful reviewers; you have no idea how much your support and comments meant to me!**

* * *

Only the parching of their tear ducts provided a momentary lapse for their weeping.

Silence was its successor.

After a combined fifteen years of emotion-charged energy solely focused upon revenge and grief and desperation, the only possible outcome of Johnson's death was the void that Troy and Gabriella were plunged into. Anger was not expunged by vengeance. Grief was not mitigated by retribution and closure.

Death merely led to emptiness.

As Troy and Gabriella were driven back to their hotel, huddled into each other, they weren't just seeing the other in a different light: they were viewing the world in its entirety with completely new eyes. Their almost infantile gaze upon life cast glittering highlights over each other's actions – as numbed and sluggish as these same actions may have been in the wake of Johnson's death.

Only after the pair had stepped through their front door in New York did any sense of consciousness and awareness begin to seep through the vacuum of emotionless within which they had been entrapped. The door closed behind them with a dull thud. Their eyes met and sad smiles communicated wordlessly. Troy and Gabriella's physical enemy may have been defeated, but Johnson had injected his poison into so many areas of their lives that their battle was far from over.

"I'm so sorry." They were only three simultaneously spoken words, but it was a sentiment that voiced their every regret and hope and showed just how desperately they were clinging to the promise of a new start.

Hand in hand they walked through their darkened home and into the living room; falling onto the settee that overlooked the place where Troy had asked Gabriella to be his eternally. If they had stared hard enough, they might have been able to see the tears of joy that would forever leave their indelible mark upon the varnished flooring. Yet now wasn't a time for grand gestures and proclamations: it was a time for talking.

Troy and Gabriella without the grief and anger and a one-goaled perspective were two people without a defined aim in life. All that they knew was that they wanted and needed to be together.

It was a start.

And so Troy and Gabriella's thoughts had coupled and danced amongst the forgotten wishes and plans of their innocence. As the conclusions of their conversation spilled from one day over to the next, plans were made, boxes were packed and a new page was turned.

There was just one simple premise for their new start; a single promise: no more lies.

After everything that had happened between Troy and Gabriella since they had met, it should have been easy. Indeed Gabriella had believed that the scars left by the guilt and misery of hiding things from him would have rendered the lies evermore impossible.

Gabriella had never wanted to fall back into the dreadful pattern: lies had permeated almost every conversation of the last ten years and she could never have imagined that she would ever make a conscious decision to continually deceive Troy again.

Yet she had stumbled unintentionally back into that deceptive trap; at first out of shock, then out of nerves, and now she just had no idea how to tell him.

Her hands trembled as she wiped sweaty strands of hair away from her clammy forehead. She didn't have the energy to move and simply allowed her drawn face to fall against the cold white of the toilet seat as she bit back a sob: she wanted him there to rub her back and to tell her how she was supposed to come to terms with her discovery. Her breathing grew ragged as she remembered in agonizing detail the extent to which they had spent the last months frantically organizing their new life; and a sardonic sob burst against her lips upon recalling the seemingly impossible number of strokes of luck that had come their way: from the perfect house that they had found in such a short space of time to the University place that she had managed to secure for the next Fall.

He had been so excited – so had she – and she was going to ruin it all.

* * *

"_What do we do now?" Troy's whisper was deafening in the silent room._

_Snuggling into the crook of his neck, her grip upon his arm as firm as his upon her thigh, Gabriella smiled softly. "I don't know. I don't want to go back to work." Even knowing that his response was going to be the same – it had been palpable in his every word and caress since they had known each other's truths – she still felt apprehension about his answer: it would be one to divert their paths well and truly into the unknown._

"_Me either." The admission catapulted the soul mates into a tumult of unanswered questions constricted by never before explored desires. It was terrifying. Yet it was invigorating. "You know what I always wanted to do?" Troy murmured, rubbing soothing circles into the top of his wife's leg. "When I was studying, before the CIA approached me?"_

"_No..." The smile that was tickling the smooth curves of Gabriella's lips was no longer tentative. There was something almost electrifying about seeing the passionate glow of her husband's eyes as he allowed himself to imagine possibilities that had long since been forgotten._

"_I can see myself designing websites, you know, I could start my own company and, I dunno, maybe the guys could help. We could have a room or an office in our new house: we wouldn't need much space. I'd be able to see you off in the morning and then I'd be there when you came home."_

_She smiled, taking a moment to picture the scenario; and her grin only grew in radiance. "And if you ever had a big project and had to work weekends I could bring you all coffee through and sit and watch you work..."_

"_Yeah," Troy concluded with a warm, hopeful smile and an affirmative nod of the head. "What about you?" he asked, raising his hand to stroke through her slightly matted tendrils._

_Gabriella's smile dropped at his question: her life had been stolen from her much earlier than his. "I don't know," she sighed, tears pricking to her eyes at the realisation of just how much she had really lost. "I never went to University," she mumbled as she began to pick at the frayed edges of his shirt. "I finished school, I mean, and I did well, but after that...." Her voice trailed off as Troy placed a kiss on her crown. "I just stopped living after school. You know, I was the only person whose parents weren't at Graduation? I remember looking out at all these people and their parents and just feeling myself freeze up...I think that was the last straw for me..."_

_A comforting silence wove its way between the two bodies as Troy nuzzled his nose into Gabriella's hair. "What was your GPA?"_

"_3.7..." she whispered absentmindedly in reply as she felt her imagination begin to be led astray by her childhood dreams._

"_Hold up!" Troy uttered in wondered shock. "You got a grade average of 3.7 despite the fact that your parents had been murdered and your entire world turned upside down?"_

_Gabriella's eyes darted to the side sheepishly for a moment before she looked up at her husband. "Maybe..." she admitted bashfully._

"_Dear Lord I'm married to a genius."_

"_A genius without any qualifications," Gabriella reminded him with a wry smile. _

_Troy merely rolled his eyes. "Gabriella we're twenty five, I hardly think that it's time to declare yourself useless."_

_The twitching of her lips signalled that she knew he was right. "I could be a kept woman?" Gabriella managed to tease before wrinkling her nose in abhorrence at the thought. At his snort and move to retort, she held her hand up: "Lord, I would get so bored. I'd need something to keep me busy and my mind ticking over..." Taking a deep breath and inhaling the faintly lingering scent of her husband's aftershave, Gabriella shrugged. "When I was younger, before everything happened," she mused. "I kind of wanted to be a High School teacher. I remember longing for the "normal" 9-5, totally domesticated life that my family never had. My Biology teacher in Junior Year was this amazing woman, she just made everything seem so easy – to everyone – and going to her classes wasn't like learning...I always wanted to be like that, you know; be able to give some other kids enjoyment for something I loved..."_

_Troy grinned, tucking her head more securely underneath his chin. "A Secondary Ed Biology teacher," he hummed. "Yep, I can definitely see that."_

_

* * *

  
_

It had been one promise – no more lies – and Troy Bolton knew that his wife had broken it. In hindsight, he still couldn't believe that he and Gabriella had kept their former careers secret from each other for so long: it should have been obvious in her nervousness when she came home unexpectedly late; the unusually regular bruises should have been a give-away; he should have been able to decipher the guilt-reminiscent look that was never far from the surface. Now, though, he knew exactly how to read her shiftiness. The kisses that she would brush tentatively to his lips when he asked where she had been were no longer a sign of her cute affection. Her elusiveness and nervous expression simply fed Troy's paranoia.

Troy could feel the tears welling in his eyes as he stepped back into their emptied apartment; boxes stood piled in the corner of the room and he gulped at the symbolism. Tomorrow they were moving out of the apartment that had come to represent nothing but the anguish and lies of the beginning of their marriage. Tomorrow was supposed to be the closing of that chapter of their lives. Tomorrow was the day that Troy Bolton had never thought would come.

He frowned as he stepped further into their apartment and heard her sobbing: it was a sound that would always propel him into action.

* * *

Gabriella had never meant to keep something so big a secret.

As she clutched onto its porcelain, her tears rained an angry storm into the bowl of the toilet: she hated that she alone was responsible for sending her marriage back into that breeding ground of deception and mistrust. She had seen it in his eyes that morning when she had slipped out of the house to go to her doctor's appointment. Cold accusation and overwhelming upset had frozen his irises and imprinted themselves on her brain.

Her body stiffened as she heard the door creak open behind her and Gabriella knew that it was all over. She didn't look up and merely bit her lip when all that her husband did was kneel down behind her and move her hair away from her face before rubbing her back soothingly.

Breaths erratically fought to escape from her body as he silently questioned her. "You need to tell me, Gabriella," he finally insisted; his breath hot and pleading against her damp skin.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this," Gabriella sniffled and was surprised when he wouldn't allowed her to hide her face from him. "I – " she found the words snatched from her tongue as he twisted her around firmly; maintaining his hold on her just in case the strength failed her again.

Troy looked at her directly in the eyes: "I won't let you hide from me." He wasn't going to let her drown their marriage in insecurities and anxiety.

"I didn't know how you'd react," she told him softly. "I was shocked when I realized and everything had been going so smoothly. I didn't want to ruin things." Gabriella ducked her head but raised it again before his fingers could reach out to tilt it upwards. "So I waited until I knew for sure. But you were so excited and…" She took a deep breath; needing desperately to do something to ease the painful confusion tensing his expression. "I'm pregnant, Troy."

She had waited almost a month and a half to tell him and as soon as the words had left her mouth, Gabriella had no idea why. Perhaps it had been the shock; she knew that her fear and uncertainty had played a part; but now she just couldn't comprehend why she had ever thought that telling Troy couldn't make it better.

Numbed by her admission, Troy stared at his wife in disbelief before his jaw dropped: out of every possibility that had run through his mind once he had realized that she was keeping something from him, this had been the last thing that he had expected. It was his eyes that began to tingle with the signs of awareness first; delight caressing his blue orbs and imbuing the rest of his body with its warmth.

"You - ," he corrected himself: "We're having a baby?" Troy uttered softly and stared awe-struck at the woman in front of him.

Gabriella simply nodded and for the first time since the Doctor had confirmed her suspicions she felt an eager bubbling in the pit of her stomach: if the thought could make him look at her like that then maybe they could do this.

His eyes widened and he shook his head with a small smile. "Wow."

"Uhuh."

He chuckled and pulled her small, pale frame into his arms. "How long?" he asked; even though thinking back he was able to trace her strange behaviour back to its beginning.

Guilt trickled over her features and her eyes dulled as she confessed. "I've known for about a month and a half...and," she couldn't help but smile again. "I'm two and a half months along..."

Troy's eyes glimmered in recognition as he did the calculation. "That night?" he asked softly and raised his eyebrows when she nodded. "That's poetic," he muttered partly in amusement but mostly in marvel: their coupling that night had been explosion of passion and love and a paralysing fear of losing the other; it had been a combustion of emotion that had fashioned new life out of the depth of their will for a new start. "Why didn't you tell me?" he mumbled; a hint of accusation seeping through his disbelief.

Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, Gabriella barely noticed the mute tears of happiness that were running down her cheeks and intermingling with his as the side of their faces pressed together. "I don't know," she admitted with a hiccough. "It was so unplanned and I freaked out." She pulled back and looked at him with undeniable traces of worry in her eyes. "I don't know if I can do this," she whispered. "After everything that I've done…"

"That we've done," Troy amended and the tingeing of their cheeks reflected their mutual shame. "You'll be an amazing Mom," he continued in a reverent murmur.

"Are we ready for this?" At Troy's shrug, she began to elaborate. "It's not been long and we've barely begun to start again…I was supposed to start at NYU in the Fall…"

Troy smiled sadly and his eyes fell upon her stomach; a clotted ball of tears catching in the bottom of his throat as he realized that their child was nestled beneath the skin. Taking Gabriella's hand, he placed it over its centre and interlaced their fingers. "I want this," he croaked. "I want our baby and, God, I want you, Gabriella."

She sobbed again and pulled his head to her with his free hand; their lips meeting in a tremblingly ecstatic kiss. "You mean it?" she asked redundantly. "You aren't upset?"

Chuckling, Troy shook his head and pressed their lips together again; their hands still squished between their bodies. "Never…" he reassured her.

Gabriella bit her lip and rested their foreheads together. "We didn't plan this…" She had meant it seriously but she had to giggle softly: they had made list upon list as they tried to organize their new lives. They had drawn up timelines and calculated budgets; they had carefully dissected what from their old lives they wanted to keep and what needed to be discarded; they had chosen furniture and argued over wall colours. Yet not once had they envisaged the appearance of a child into the equation.

Troy just grinned at her. Reaching around to where her hand was massaging his neck, he linked their fingers and brought it around to his mouth where he brushed a kiss over her wedding ring. "We didn't plan for a lot of things," he sighed. "I never planned to let in anybody in again. I never planned to run into you in Cairo. I never planned to fall in love with you: it doesn't mean that it wasn't supposed to happen."

He kissed her again and Gabriella reciprocated with a tender fervour; their hands drifting instinctively to rest over his heart.

Troy and Gabriella had never been destined to fall into a life of death and deception. As they knelt on the floor, eyes communicating a wordless bliss, the pulsing of Troy's heartbeat travelled from his chest to their enjoined hands, through Gabriella's own soul and down to the tiny being blossoming within her. It was as if everything had finally slipped into place.

Their impossible fairytale had finally been accomplished.


End file.
